


so show me the way home

by buckybuck (thestarsthesea)



Series: there will be history between us two; [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Animal Transformation, Bucky/Brock is more mentioned than anything, Cheating, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, Jealousy, M/M, Magical Shenanigans, Pre-Slash, Realization, Unintentional Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-01-15 09:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 22,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsthesea/pseuds/buckybuck
Summary: Drabble fills - the goal is to do 30 in 30 days, and hopefully all of them will be WinterIronEvery drabble is based off a prompt of some kind, sentence or word, I won't know until the day I write!Tags and Rating are subject to change with future updates!





	1. we could forget everything and everyone

**Author's Note:**

> Work Title Credit: ilomilo by Billie Eilish  
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the familiar persons, places, things, or organisations you may recognise in this work.
> 
> Warnings: I am not the kind of person who writes particularly horrible things, but be mindful of the tags, and I'll warn for anything possibly warn-worthy in the top author's note of the chapter. The rating is subject to change, just in case something naughty or canon-level violent sneaks in.

*~**~*

“Okay,” Tony says, his arms crossed as he glares across the room. “That’s starting to get annoying.”

His eye twitches as _another_ scantily clad socialite brushes her hand down Bucky’s chest, whatever she says leaves Bucky smiling, all crooked and charming as he looks down at his shiny shoes

And he gets it, alright, he gets it more than anyone at this stupid fundraising gala even realises. Bucky’s chest really is deliciously broad and perfect looking on a normal Tuesday in a baggy sweatshirt, and the tailored suit really just brings even more attention to his supersoldierly blessings, but that doesn’t mean people are allowed to just _crawl all over him_. No matter how adorable his bashful blushing is.

“You know,” Steve interrupts Tony’s attempt at eye-lasering the woman leaning into Bucky’s space with sheer intent alone. “no one is stopping you from going over there and hanging off Buck yourself, Tony.”

Tony really doesn’t need Steve’s opinion on his hapless little crush, okay. He keeps saying shit like _just tell him, Tony_ and _Buck would never be an asshole about it, Tony_ and _I swear to God if one of you doesn’t get your act together I’m going to lock you both in a closet-_ , but Tony knows Steve’s relationship track record, and he refuses to take the advice of a guy who got _shot at_ by his last big true love.

“Actually,” Steve says. “I’m pretty sure he’d appreciate it even if it was _Sam_ hanging all over him, at this point.”

They watch as the Instagram model, or whatever she is, leans further into Bucky’s space, her nails visibly pressing into Bucky’s arm and wrinkling the fabric of his tux, like he’s not too polite to tell her to fuck off anyway. Her red painted lips brush along Bucky’s ear, leaving a smear along his skin, and Tony notices just how tense he is, and how the bitch really is failing to read the neon billboard sign that is his desire to flee in the subtle way he’s leaning away from her.

“Fuck it.” He slams his empty glass onto the bar and strides over, straightening his jacket as he walks. He shakes off the jealousy, replacing it with a shining smile and an enraging layer of arrogance.

Bucky catches him coming, his chest sagging in what Tony would bet half his company on to be a relieved sigh. His eyes are so big and blue and don’t once leave Tony’s as he covers the last bit of distance between them.

The girl notices his attention has left her and scowls at the side of Bucky’s face, following his eyes to Tony and turns her glare onto him instead. He pays her absolutely no mind, his focus solely on Bucky.

He steps close, not nearly as close as whoever the girl is, but close enough that Tony can see the exact second Bucky completely forgets the girl beside him even exists, and the gratifying movement that has him swaying in Tony’s direction. 

See, Tony really isn’t blind. Up until this moment, he thought Steve was talking out his ass anytime he even so much as hinted at Bucky being interested, because, well, Bucky never really gave him a reason to think Steve was telling the truth. But the thing is, right now, he’s not looking at Tony like he’s desperate for his help, or that he’s grateful Tony’s come to save him from the clutches of an annoyingly determined socialite, hell, not even like he’s _hoping_ Tony has come to save him from an annoyingly determined socialite. No, he’s just looking at Tony like there’s nothing better to be looking at.

All of Tony’s focus is on Bucky, but all of Bucky’s focus in on Tony in return.

Sensing her time is up, the girl pushes away from Bucky, storming off in a huff of candy perfume and hair extensions. Tony doesn’t watch her go, just smiles, leans forward and says, “Hey, Soldier.”

*~**~*


	2. remember more than you'd like to forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They can't hurt you anymore."

*~**~*

A lot of the Bucky Barnes memories are still foggy. Sure, James reclaimed a lot, enough to remember who he was supposed to be, enough important ones that he feels he can fill the shoes pretty well. But not all of them came back, and most of them that did are like looking through a soap covered window.

But all the Winter Soldier ones? They’re crystal clear.

He remembers every face, every minute of dread leading up to the chair, every nerve-wracking bit of training, every time he did something wrong and was punished for it, it’s all right there. They’re there when he sleeps, when he trains, when he’s eating breakfast and the sunlight glints off of the butter knife Bruce is using to slather peanut butter on his bagel and the sight of it makes him twitch.

He works hard to keep them in line. To remind himself that they’re from _before_ , that they don’t matter anymore. But sometimes, sometimes it doesn’t work.

His heart is pounding a harsh rhythm in his chest as he stands frozen and staring at the monitor in front of him. Sweat prickles on his temples, cold and hot in turns, and James can’t _breathe_.

The monitor suddenly flips, blinking from the dead-eyed stare of the recently found HYDRA doctor to an empty corridor. He pulls in a desperate breath.

“Hey.”

His fists unclench, his fingernails leaving stinging crescents in his palm. He hadn’t even realised he had curled them into fists.

“ _Hey_.”

James turns, blinking a swell of hot tears out of his eyes. Tony stands there, battered and bruised from their latest fight, the one that got them the HYDRA doctor, his Iron Man suit is nowhere to be seen.

Tony steps close, he’s no doubt the reason for the sudden change of scenery on the monitor, but he doesn’t mention it and he doesn’t push himself further into James’s space. “You with me?”

The overwhelming feeling of panic is slowly scattering in the face of Tony’s interruption, the barrage of flash after flash of that same doctor strapping him into the chair, of pushing burning needles into his arm, all dissolving the longer he looks into Tony’s brown eyes. He nods, still panting but forcing himself to pull in deeper breaths.

“James,” Tony’s voice is low and steady, confident, and his eyes are wide and imploring where they look into James’s. “they can’t hurt you anymore.”

James takes a breath, holds it deep in his lungs. Tony’s right. They got the words out. James is not a tool for HYDRA to use anymore. They can’t get to him and make him forget, can’t make him hurt anyone when he doesn’t want to.

He’s safe here.

The breath he’s holding leaves him in a rush, his hand twitches towards Tony without his brain thinking about it. 

Tony meets him halfway.

His calloused fingertips meet James’s and pull as he steps forward to gather James in and hold him tight and close. And as James collapses and bends, his nose buried in the metal and spicy cologne that sits on Tony’s skin, his heart slows, his breathing evens out, and he lets Tony keep him calm. Allows himself to relish in the knowledge that Tony will keep him safe, that he’s not alone, not anymore.

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two, how exciting! This one was a struggle cause my attention span was taking a fucking break lol but I persevered and produced something, so, hey! I still did it!  
> Also, not sure I made it clear before, but these aren't all going to be part of the same story. Some of them may take place in the same universe, but not all of them will be connected. For instance, chapters one and two are not from the same timeline. Anything connected I will, hopefully, remember to put a note letting everyone know!
> 
> Business:  
> Title Credit: This Photograph Is Proof (I Know You Know) by Taking Back Sunday (throwin' it way tf back)  
> Disclaimer: the disclaimer from chapter one still stands  
> Prompt: "Hey, hey. They can't hurt you anymore."
> 
> Not beta'd, so any mistakes are assholes that evaded my detection.
> 
> Hope this chapter gives y'all something! Preferably something good lol  
> <333


	3. come out and play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “C’mon, Tony, you can’t just sit there all day.”

*~**~*

“C’mon, Tony, you can’t just sit there all day.” Bucky sighs, finally breaking the uneasy silence filling the room.

Tony’s been glaring at the darkened TV for the better part of an hour, and Bucky’s just been letting him, figuring that if he lets Tony mentally aim some of his anger at a blank TV he’ll eventually calm down enough to do something a bit more productive about it. But, he’s apparently wrong.

“Fuck off, Barnes.” Is the lovely response he gets for his efforts. 

Bucky lets out another affected sigh, quietly so he doesn’t poke the proverbial bear that’s Tony’s simmering temper, and rolls his eyes before moving from his spot leaning against the far wall. 

He closes the distance between them with a few long strides. Tony doesn’t pay him much attention, instead keeps his focus ahead of him, no doubt fighting with himself and FRIDAY about turning the TV on for news coverage. Bucky bends and scoops Tony’s phone from the coffee table, slipping it into his back pocket and picking up a jacket he forgot in the same motion.

“Get over it, Stark. You’re not the first guy to be benched for a fight, and you won’t be the last,” he pulls the jacket on and settles it over his shoulders. “So you can either sulk here like a baby, or realise Carol’s right to make you sit it out, and get off your ass and do something to forget about it.”

For a split second Bucky thinks he fucked up. Tony flips his glare to him so quickly he’s surprised Tony doesn’t get whiplash from it. But after a moment, Tony lets out a sigh that seems way too big for the size of his body, leaving him deflated and looking at Bucky like a pitifully dejected puppy. “And what do you propose I do, Snowflake?”

Bucky shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket, giving Tony a lazy shrug. “Been to Cony Island lately?”

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really struggling with naming things these days. If you haven't noticed I use lyrics, but I'm listening to, like, one new album so I feel like everything I have is stale lol
> 
> Anyway, whatever, here's all the Business:  
> Title Credit: Come Out and Play by Billie Eilish  
> Disclaimer: I don't claim to own these things  
> Prompt: "you can't just sit there all day"
> 
> Not beta'd as per usual ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> See y'all tomorrow! Hope you enjoy!  
> <333


	4. I'll make you an offer that you can't refuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sighs, suddenly feeling very…. lonely. And isn’t he impressive? Finally getting in touch with his emotions or whatever and being able to admit that to himself. “I’m too sober for this.”

*~**~*

Tony stares from the safety of a very convenient observation window as Steve has a happy little reunion with his old pal Howard. He frowns, sullen, as Howard apparently says something charming, eliciting laughs and smiles from the crowd around him.

Leave it to Howard to pop into existence on a random Wednesday afternoon and ruin his relationship with every person who meets him and ever has to deal with Tony after. He has no proof, but Tony can’t help but think if Howard could have done this on purpose he would have.

He sighs, suddenly feeling very… lonely. And isn’t he impressive? Finally getting in touch with his emotions or whatever and being able to admit that to himself. “I’m too sober for this.”

“Wanna fuck off and get a beer, then?”

Tony jumps. He thought he was alone. He turns to give Barnes the sink eye, but his heart really isn’t in it. “No.” He turns back just in time to watch Steve clap Howard on the back, laughing again at something he said and lets out another sigh. “But yes.”

Barnes comes to stand beside him, gazing down onto the room below them, seemingly unaffected by his supposed best pal and old dead friend hanging out without him. Tony wants to let it lie, but the more he thinks about it the less he can leave it alone.

“So, why aren’t you down there reconnecting with your long lost bro?”

Shrugging, Barnes continues to watch the scene, unimpressed. “I killed the guy, seems kinda weird, if you ask me. Plus,” he tilts his head in consideration. “Bucky always thought he was a showboating asshole.”

The simple honesty of the statement startles a laugh out of Tony. Even if everyone else gets fooled by Howard’s charm, at least he knows Barnes never saw through the facade.

Tony doesn’t feel bad about turning away. The sterile white wall is a lot more interesting anyway. He and Barnes stand in companionable silence, one Tony doesn’t feel the need to break for once.

“You know,” Barnes drawls. “I’m serious about that beer.”

People bringing up alcohol, or rather, his sobriety, always makes Tony twitch. “I don’t--”

“--drink alcohol anymore, I know.” Tony raises an eyebrow at the interruption. If he knows why did he even ask? “That doesn’t stop you from havin’ root beer, does it?”

Itt doesn't seem like Barnes is mocking him, there’s nothing malicious in the set of his smirk or the glint in his eye, so Tony takes it as it is and chuckles, rolling his eyes. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

Nodding like that’s the end of it Barnes heads for the door. “Good, ‘cause I know a place that serves the best root beer floats.”

Tony pauses, wonders what kind of shit he might get into for skipping a happy reunion with his old man, and decides it sure as hell would be better than actually having to say a damn thing to Howard. After one last glance through the window, he turns his back and follows Barnes through the door.

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> I don't explain it in the actual drabble, but I'm afraid some people might have questions, but the Bucky in this 'verse isn't exactly Bucky Barnes but he's not full on Winder Soldier either. He's a mix of both, and tends to act like a new personality cause he kinda is, in a way.  
> Anyway, not much else to say. I think....
> 
> Business:  
> Title Credit: Bad Together by Dua Lipa  
> Disclaimer: same old, same old  
> Prompt: "I'm too sober for this"
> 
> No beta, as foretold in the prophecies
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys! See y'all tomorrow!  
> <333


	5. I hope you have found a friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hasn’t been to a bar in over a year, what with his sobriety, and all. But Happy dropped him off at the Tower and he really wasn’t keen on the cold emptiness of home, so he just turned in a direction and started to walk. Nine winding blocks later he came upon The Red Star Bar.

*~**~*

Tony’s day has been shit.

First off, Pepper has a new man in her life. And it’s not that Tony isn’t happy for her, he genuinely is. He loves Pepper with every bit of his heart, and while they might not be made for each other romantically, that doesn’t lessen his love for her at all. He wants her to be the happiest woman in the world, even if he can’t make her that way.

But none of that doesn’t make it sting any less. It just reminds him how he couldn’t be what she wanted, what she needed. That he let her down in some way.

Then, on top of finding out Pepper has officially moved on (for two months. They’ve been dating for _two months_ ), the Board rejected not one, two, or three, but _four_ of his new product proposals because they’re apparently not “profitable enough”. Like he gives a _shit_ about making anymore money.

And to top it off, Rhodey is being shipped off to another part of the world again. He’s not even getting a visit before having to leave, and Tony is just feeling. Well. He's feeling lonely, and a little sad, and too close to the end of his rope for comfort.

His penthouse feels too big and too empty to go home to right now. It would be weird and painful to turn to Pepper, Thor is visiting home, Bruce has fucked off to some third world country for research, so Tony had find somewhere else.

He hasn’t been to a bar in over a year, what with his sobriety, and all. But Happy dropped him off at the Tower and he really wasn’t keen on the cold emptiness of home, so he just turned in a direction and started to walk. Nine winding blocks later he came upon The Red Star Bar.

He fought with himself for a solid three minutes about going in, and if this was any place other than New York he’s sure he would have garnered a few odd looks for glaring at a bar for the better part of five minutes, but luckily this _is_ New York, so he was paid no mind while he argued with his own mind.

In the end he grit his teeth and went in, and the instant he stepped inside he felt better. The place isn’t a shithole, but it’s also not one of those annoying elite Manhattan bars that looks like a bar had sex with a car dealership and had some fucked up baby as a result.

No, this place is just… a bar. The lights are pleasantly warm and just low enough to make it comfortable, it smells like beer but not the piss water kind, like the people who come here actually buy stuff that’s more than a few bucks a pint. The floors are a dark and sleek wood, and the booths, like the bar’s name, are a beautiful matte red. And the best part of all? It’s not horrendously busy, just a few small groups in a couple of booths, and three people at the bar, but it’s not empty enough that Tony’ll stand out at all, either.

Tony heads for the bar, taking a stool towards the end, a few seats down from the nearest guy, and fidgets.

He suddenly doesn’t like being in a bar.

His heart is pounding a deep rhythm in his chest and he realises, like a punch to the face, that he’s in the wrong place. That a bleak home is better than a warm bar with its even warmer whiskey.

He’s about to bolt, but before he can even put his feet back on the ground there’s a hand placing a napkin in front of him, and a tumbler of what he really hopes is ice water follows.

He swallows, his throat feels tight. “What is this?” he croaks, asking the bartender without lifting his eyes from the fogging glass.

The guy’s voice is soft, but not in a judgemental way when he says, “Just water. Looked like you don’t really need anything stronger.”

Tony nods, a little sloppy and awkward, and reaches out with a shaking hand to grip the glass and take a drink. The water is, thankfully, actually water, ice cold like a shock to the system.

It takes a few minutes and the whole tumbler, but eventually Tony calms down. He can handle this. He can handle being in a bar and not drinking a drop of alcohol. He’s fine.

The bartender makes his way back to Tony, and another glass of water lands with a muted thump upon his napkin. Tony actually raises his head this time and looks at the guy. He’s hot. Like, distressingly hot, with his long brown hair pulled into a half-fallen bun, a jawline sharp enough to cut yourself on, the prettiest blue eyes Tony’s ever actually seen, and the _stubble_. Tony’s never been able to resist a half-decent looking guy with some good stubble, but this? This is next level.

The man’s grin is easy and bright, cocky like he knows how good looking he is, but there’s still something soft there, like he doesn’t actually care about it. He’s perfect. Or, well, he’s perfect in the sense that Tony would have already started flirting if he was feeling anything like himself.

As it is, he mutters a quiet thank you and looks back down, picking the glass up just for something to hold, to ground him a bit.

Tony waits for the bartender to move back down the bar and leave him to his water, but he doesn’t. Instead, he rests his arms on the bar top, one hand cradling that beautiful jaw so he’s propped up and staring at Tony like there’s not much else for him to do.

Tony takes a sip of his water to buy time and gives the guy the side eye, one eyebrow slowly climbing up his forehead. The bartender just smiles, a sweet little curl to his lips, and says, “Bad day?”

He sounds genuine enough, if not a touch sarcastic, but maybe that’s just Tony projecting his own assholish thoughts onto some innocent man. Either way, Tony rolls his eyes. “You could say that.”

The man’s fingers drum a brief beat long the bar top. “Wanna talk about it?”

Tony snorts, fighting the urge to sigh. “Not really, no.”

“You never know,” the bartender wheedles. “it might make you feel better.”

It bubbles in his chest, though, the need to get it out in the open, but he tramps it down. He’s had years of practice, after all. “I’m fine, thanks.”

This guy has a stubborn streak as wide as Tony’s it seems since he’s clearly not willing to give it up. “Everyone needs a friend, pal.”

Tony’s not sure what’s going on at this point, why he’s so insistent, but it’s been drilled into his head to keep his mouth shut no matter what, and he doesn’t plan on caving now. “Believe it or not, I didn’t actually come here to make friends.”

The bartender abruptly stands up, picking Tony’s empty glass up as he does, the attractive smirk back on his face. “You didn’t, huh?” He’s quick as he refills Tony’s tumbler with ice, forgoing the plain water this time for something carbonated. “Then I suggest you drink fast because my bleeding-heart best friend just walked in, and _that_ ,” he motions at the stool to Tony’s right with the glass, before he sets it down on the napkin and slides it forward. “is his favourite seat in the house.”

Tony looks to his right, eyeing the stool, and catches sight of the smiling blonde heading toward it.

The smirk still firmly in place, if not even a little more pleased, the man crosses his arms and leans against the bar directly in line with Tony. He bends a little to say, his voice confident, “And since you’re gonna get sucked in by his earnest charm anyway, might as well tell you,” his biceps bulge as he uncrosses his forearms to extend one Tony’s way, and oops. Tony’s feeling attraction again. “I’m Bucky.”

Tony hesitates for just a second, he can feel the air shift beside him and knows the blonde has made it to the bar and sat down. He thinks of his penthouse, of the lack of warmth, the emptiness, and decides _fuck it_.

He slips his hand into Bucky’s. “Tony.”

Bucky smiles and curls his fingers around Tony’s palm, and Tony doesn’t need to meet the earnest best friend, he’s pretty damn charmed already. “Well, Tony, I think you and I are gonna get along great.”

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello!   
> Welcome to the first installment that doesn't actually take place in the canon universe! Tony is still Tony without the Iron Man gig, and Bucky is Bucky just, modern and flesh armed and not assassin-y lol.  
> One day I'll write other people besides Tony, Bucky, and Steve, I'm especially hoping I'll get to incorporate some Tony and Natasha goodness because they're my fave pals, but I just haven't found the right prompt yet! I'm holding my breath for it though!
> 
> Business:  
> Title Credit: Closing Time by Semisonic (I don't know why but it had to be this song, okay)  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, my friends  
> Prompt: "I didn't come here to make friends" changed it a liiiiitle bit, but it's still the same!
> 
> No beta we die like men
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this extra long chapter! (long for this series anyway, most everything else I write comes out way too long lol)  
> Lemme know! Yell down in the comments, or shoot me a message on tumblr: http://buckybuck.tumblr.com  
> <333


	6. I am not throwin' away my shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiding is maybe not the most dignified way to spend a game of laser tag, but when you’re up against an assassin that’s literally so good at his job he was rumoured to not even _exist_ for seventy years, you have to make what you have work to your advantage.

*~**~*

Hiding is maybe not the most dignified way to spend a game of laser tag, but when you’re up against an assassin that’s literally so good at his job he was rumoured to not even _exist_ for seventy years, you have to make what you have work to your advantage. And what does Tony have? A small stature and a big brain, and both lead him to find the nearest crevice, wedging himself in, and waiting.

According to Bruce, who’s wisely sitting out on this particular little activity, but is instead sitting in the lobby watching the scoreboard (and relaying the match info to Tony through his watch, because Tony is also incredibly charming and convincing, and got Bruce to agree the team imbalance is totally unfair), Bucky has already taken out Nat and Carol. Tony doesn’t understand how Carol is so undeniably bad at _laser tag_ , but it’s mostly overshadowed by his regret at not being able to see the sexy Russian assassin showdown.

As it stands Tony and Sam are still holding it down for their team, and clearly Tony isn’t doing much for offence, so he hopes Sam is being careful on this harsh neon battlefield and can at least take Captain Spangles out before he inevitably gets brutally and efficiently taken down by the one person who’s probably way too overqualified for this kind of competition. 

Tony looks down as his watch vibrates, a message flashing quickly across the screen before he slaps a palm over it. _Sam and Steve seemed to have taken each other out, in a no doubt very devastating battle._

Which means he and Bucky are the only ones left, thanks to Nat’s natural ability to be able to destroy Clint in pretty much anything, and Carol’s idiot luck going against an equally bad opponent in Thor.

The way he sees it, Tony has two options: he can stay here and eventually get found with no place to run and get murdered immediately, or, he can sneak out of his hiding place and maybe make a bit of a run for it before getting murdered immediately.

Real stellar choices there, but Tony thinks he’s gonna go with the latter, if only for pride’s sake.

He takes a deep, quiet breath before letting it out in a silent rush. Throwing himself to the side, he takes a quick look around, luckily he spots neither hide nor hair of everyone’s favourite murderous snowman.

Deeming it safe, he steps out of his crevice, dancing around on his tip-toes as he heads for the nearest cover. He ducks down, taking another wild look around.

It’s too quiet.

He crawls along the wall of cover, it’s totally and completely dignified and not at all ruining his five-hundred dollar jeans.

He keeps his head low, cause, maybe if he can’t see Bucky, Bucky can’t see him?

A pair of combat boots land right in front of him, dropped from nowhere like they came from the _fucking ceiling_. He freezes, staring, wide-eyed, at the neatly tied laces.

”Found you, Antoshka.”

Tony closes his eyes, his head dropping as he accepts his fate.

There’s a whoosh of air as Bucky drops to a crouch in front of him. “Aww,” the warm fingers of his flesh hand curl under Tony’s chin and gently pull until he’s looking at Bucky’s face. It’s pretty clear he’s a bit more Soldier than Barnes at this point. Luckily he’s a cocky, playful Soldier, not a homicidal one. “don’t pout, doll. All’s fair in love and war.”

In a flash of brilliance so bright he’s surprised a lightbulb doesn’t manifest above his head, Tony has a new plan.

He blinks, hoping to god his Bambi eyes are still effective in this shitty neon light. “And which is this, James?”

It looks like it takes a second for Tony’s meaning to sink in, but once it does Bucky’s whole demeanor seems to change. Gone is the overconfident assassin, and left in his place is the soft, half-lidded Bucky that always seems to preen under Tony’s attention.

One of Bucky’s knees drops to the floor. “Supposed to be war, Antoshka.” His voice low and sweet, dripping like honey between them.

Tony places a hand on Bucky’s leg, using it as leverage to push himself up a bit, bringing him and Bucky just that much closer. “You know, I really always preferred the other thing, myself.”

It’s almost too easy. Is working too well. Tony can’t help but be suspicious.

With the smallest smile on his lips, Bucky sways forward, his fingers tightening just the slightest bit on Tony’s jaw. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, sweetheart.”

Oh, Tony means it. But his motives aren’t all sunshine and rainbows, either way. 

Leaning up, their faces only a few inches apart, so close Tony could count Bucky’s lashes if the light was better. Tony very deliberately looks down, his gaze lingering on Bucky’s pretty mouth.

“You know me, darling, I’m really not the type of guy,” he drops his left hand, his fingers catching on hard plastic. “Who likes to lose at laser tag.”

He twists his wrist, shooting Bucky point blank in the side, his vest bursting with red flashing lights as an alarm sings from a speaker in the chest. 

Tony throws his hands up, falling away from Bucky and crowing with victory. The lights come up since a winner has been decided, and Tony looks over and sees the gobsmacked look on Bucky’s face. His lovely blue eyes wide, mouth open in a cute little o of shock.

He feels a bit guilty all the sudden. Dirty tactics. But, hey, Bucky’s the one who said it.

“Aw, c’mon, Buck. You already said, all’s fair in love and war.”

He shoots Bucky a winning smile, his most charming one, hoping this is one of the times his charisma gets him off the hook.

Bucky isn’t having it this time. His eyes narrow and his mouth closes with a quiet click. Tony has a split second of watching Bucky’s thighs tense, his shoulders start to move before he thinks _oh shit_ and has a grumpy assassin flying toward him.

He braces for a hit, and sure, he gets one, but not really the way he was expecting. 

The floor knocks the breath out of him, a quiet grunt slipping passed his lips as Bucky’s weight barrels into him and sends him on his back. Turns out he doesn’t need it, anyway, since Bucky would have stolen it not even a second later when his lips slot firmly over Tony’s own.

The worst thing to come of Bucky’s tackle is the breath getting knocked out of him, his head doesn’t even hit the floor thanks to Bucky’s hand coming up to cradle his skull before he lands. Bucky clearly has the upper hand, but he doesn’t push beyond the steady pressure of the kiss.

Tony’s hands find their way to Bucky’s hair, threading through and pulling him down further, turning the kiss harder, better. He’s working with little oxygen, though, and it’s a depressingly small amount of time later before he needs to pull away, gasping for air.

It doesn’t deter Bucky in the slightest, who just moves on to Tony’s cheek instead, dropping kiss after kiss. “That was so devious, Antoshka, you should be ashamed.”

“Not really seeing much of a reason for that, Snowflake.” Tony pants, still trying to catch his breath.

Bucky’s voice is deep, bordering on a growl. “Dirty tactics, sweetheart. Should punish you.”

Tony’s brain abruptly blue screens at the thought, booting up just enough to have him groan under his breath. “ _Still_ not seeing a downside, here.”

Teeth scrape along Tony’s jaw as Bucky pulls away. His eyes are dark, half-lidded and twinkling. A smirk pulls at his mouth, and Tony becomes all too aware he’s talking to Winter again. That should maybe make him nervous, given the turn their current conversation has taken, but he could honestly care less. Bucky, Winter, potato, pahtahto.

Bucky darts forward for another kiss, all tongue and dirty promises. But just like that it’s over, Bucky stands up, dragging Tony along as he goes.

There’s a sudden cacophony of voices somewhere to Tony’s left. He picks up Thor’s enthusiastic cackle and understands the abrupt end to his and Bucky’s little party. Bucky steps away from him but not too far, he’s still close enough for Tony to hear perfectly well when he says, “Oh, Antoshka, I can’t wait to get my hands on you.”

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! I have been strugglin' real hard lately with motivation for finishing these. I just. Am not that confident, but whatever lol
> 
> Business Shit:  
> Title Credit: My Shot by, well, the Hamilton folks. First time I've ever been able to get Hamilton as a title, strange considering I spent most of 2016 obsessed with it lol  
> Disclaimer: I got nothin'  
> Prompt: "divided"
> 
> No beta blah blah y'all know the drill
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys!  
> <333


	7. waitin' for the soldier to come back again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tony,” it comes out as a breath. Desperate like a benediction. 
> 
> Tony still can’t move. Can’t say a damn thing.

*~**~*

Tony is half tempted to ignore his phone when it starts vibrating across the coffee table. He puts up a pretty valiant effort, keeping his face shoved firmly into his couch cushion. But the longer the vibrations continue, the tighter his shoulders get.

With a heartfelt groan he turns over to fall to the floor. After another moment of obnoxious vibrations he sits up, temper flaring. He’s just not had a good day and if this isn’t the most important thing in the world he might actually snap.

“What.” he grunts into the phone. The call is from the Tower, most likely someone from R&D who’s freaked out by something in Tony’s lab and needs their hand held while he assures them it’s _not dangerous, Malcolm, haven’t you ever built a fully self-sustaining, self-aware coffee machine before?_

He’s still a little miffed Pepper never let him put that one in front of the Board. He’s sure it would have been a hit.

Oh, sorry Mr. Stark,” he doesn’t recognise the voice at all, so, perhaps _not_ R&D. “it’s Jessica from the front desk. I don't mean to disturb you after hours, but there’s someone here who’s asking to see you--”

“Tell them to go away,” He pulls the phone from his ear, his thumb a hair away from hanging up before he quickly pulls it back to his ear and adds, “And tell anyone else to go away too. I’m not taking visitors.”

He actually hangs up after that. He’ll probably feel guilty for being so rude tomorrow, but well, that’s a problem for future Tony. He’ll have his assistant send poor Janice- or was it Jenny? Jasmine?- a fruit arrangement or something.

Lacking the energy to get back onto the sofa, he decides to just stay on the floor. It’s not nearly as comfortable, being sleek polished concrete and all, but eh. It’s better than having to move.

Bruce would be so proud of him, though. He’s actually _using_ those breathing exercises he tried to teach Tony sometime last year while he was in the midst of a disturbingly frenetic bout of insomnia plus workshop binge. It didn’t really work back then, Tony was too hyped up, didn’t actually want to try to sleep. But he still remembers, and tonight seems like the perfect time to put them to work, maybe if he breathes deep and slow and meaningful enough he’ll stop being stressed and anxious and can maybe get some real sleep-

That better not have just been someone knocking on his door.

He stays dead still, coiled from head to toe and holding his breath to listen.

A moment later it happens again, only a bit louder than the last one.

Tony’s simmering temper boils over.

He shoots up, stomping his way to the door of the penthouse. “What about “not taking visitors” is hard to understand, huh? I’d just like one night, _one night_ , where no one bothers me and I can’t even get five minutes!”

The door swings open wildly from the force of his anger. He’s completely prepared to throw his temper at the unfortunate dumbass who didn’t listen, but the second his eyes land on the person on the other side all the anger evaporates like he threw a glass of water at the fucking sun.

A battered duffle bag hits the floor with a solid thunk. Tony’s struck dumb, his eyes caught firmly in a pretty blue gaze.

His hair has gotten longer, his face a little skinnier, and the missing arm is jarring for all of three seconds before some sort of desperate mix of relief and anger take over. But damn it if he doesn’t still look beautiful in his army greens.

It feels like Tony’s heart is trying to break out of his chest and jump right back into the hands of the man who was never meant to let it go but still did.

“Tony,” it comes out as a breath. Desperate like a benediction.

Tony still can’t move. Can’t say a damn thing.

He swallows, his glassy blue eyes never once leaving Tony’s as he takes a small, hesitant step forward. “I know I- I know I don’t have the right to ask. Don’t deserve the kindness, but I was hoping - _wishing_ \- maybe-” he takes a composing breath. “I. I need a place to stay.”

Tony shouldn’t- he shouldn’t be this easy, no matter what the circumstances. No matter how they left off, but… But the truth is, he never had a chance to begin with. Not when they were young, not when they grew up and fell in love, not when he went into the army and left Tony by himself.

He could never deny Bucky anything.

He finally wrenches himself out of that painful blue-eyed gaze. Taking a step back he moves away from the door, leaving space, inviting.

There’s a moment of hesitation. It feels like the split-second before lightning strikes, the air charged and heavy, until the next moment when it tips and leaves nothing but scorched earth in its wake.

Finally, Bucky takes a step forward and he’s in Tony’s penthouse, his home.

Back in Tony’s life.

Something clicks in Tony’s chest, warm and soft, and he thinks of charred dirt.

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy! Y'all were so nice on the last chapter, leaving me such lovely comments :') I genuinely appreciate every single one, it makes me feel so good knowing these things I'm never very confident in actually make people happy. You're all so wonderful!
> 
> Anyway! So this is obviously some sort of AU in which Tony is himself while Bucky is mostly the same. Just, set in a modern time where they somehow grew up together and fell in love along the way. As I was thinking about this one it really inspired me! So there might be something else set in this 'verse later on.... if one of the prompts allows it I'm all in to write more!
> 
> Business:  
> Title Credit: Travellin' Soldier by the Dixie Chicks (anyone here know that song? Anyone cried to it like me? Anyone? Hello?)  
> Disclaimer: I play with these dolls, I didn't create them  
> Prompt: "I need a place to stay"
> 
> No beta, as I'm sure you know by now
> 
> Thank you all so much for continuing to come back! And if you're new, thanks for giving it a shot!  
> It's way past my bedtime, kiddos, so g'night! Come yell at me if ya want, tho, either in the comments or on tumblr: http://buckybuck.tumblr.com  
> <333


	8. I want your love on my bed, you know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James has been awake for over almost two hours now. He’s gotten out of bed, taken a shower, gone to the gym, taken _another_ shower, trolled twitter for twenty minutes, and gone out to get breakfast.
> 
> And when he gets back to the penthouse, he finds Tony hasn’t moved an inch the whole time.

*~**~*

James has been awake for over almost two hours now. He’s gotten out of bed, taken a shower, gone to the gym, taken _another_ shower, trolled twitter for twenty minutes, and gone out to get breakfast.

And when he gets back to the penthouse, he finds Tony hasn’t moved an inch the whole time.

He sets down the large, and ridiculously expensive, cup of coffee he got on Tony’s bedside table. The dark tangled curls sticking out from under the blanket, the only part of Tony that’s visible, twitch. The fresh bagel from Tony’s favourite deli a few blocks away follows the coffee and the curls twitch again.

James chuckles and reaches out, taking the edge of the crumpled blanket and pulls it down, exposing Tony’s sleeping face. As soon as the light hits him, however, the serene lines of Tony’s face fold into an adorable grumpy scowl.

“C’mon sweetheart, it’s time to get up,” James whispers, pushing his fingers through Tony’s mess of hair, brushing out a few tangles as gently as he can.

Tony whines, apparently torn between leaning into James’s hand and burying his face back into the pillow, which just leaves him turning his head and losing James’s fingers, then turning back and scowling at having his face exposed again.

It’s genuinely the most adorable thing James has ever seen.

He takes pity, and the next time Tony grunts and noses back into the pillow James keeps his fingers where they are and follows along. He scratches along Tony’s scalp for a moment, soaking in the relaxed lines of Tony’s shoulders, the deep, even way he’s breathing, how he’s so quiet and still like he never is when he’s properly awake.

It doesn’t last forever, though. Tony has to get up some time. “Tony, c’mon,” he tugs the unruly curls a little. “it’s almost ten and you’ve got a meeting with Pepper today.” 

Another muffled whine drifts from the bed and James can’t help but roll his eyes and chuckle.

“DJvbsk fdnfjf Jficscj evnrf.”

James blinks, trying to decipher any one of those words, but comes up with a complete blank. “What was that, Antoshka?”

“Dn’t wangsh ght umh cmhse bgid tsb biud.”

Another slow blink. “You’re gonna have to run that by me one more time, sweetheart. And maybe with your mouth out of the pillow this time, hm?”

Tony moans unhappily and takes a hand out of the blankets to grab at James’s wrist, pulling impatiently. He scooches closer to the middle of the mattress, never letting go of James’s hand, leaving him to lean over to keep contact.

“I _said_ ,” James looks down to see Tony’s face tilted toward him, one brown eye glaring and squinting at him. “I don’t wanna get up, come back to bed.”

James rolls his eyes and laughs. “You’re seriously like a man-child.” He chuckles at Tony’s haughty sniff, he’s clearly more awake than he’d like James to believe. “Well, it’s not gonna happen, darlin’. I brought you coffee and breakfast, you want ‘em, you better get up.”

Tony lets go of his wrist, letting out a heartfelt groan as he turns over onto his back, kicking his feet a little like the bratty man-child he is. The motion pulls the blanket down, though, exposing Tony’s delicate collarbone, the long sweep of his sternum, the slightest tease of all the beautiful tan skin under the covers.

James braces his newly freed hand against the mattress and brings a knee up, the other following soon after, his boots are pried off to land heavily on the floor.

Tony’s peeking at him again, one brown eye sparkling in the low light of the room. James crawls forward and bends down to set his lips against a smooth shoulder.

Maybe he can be persuaded to stay in bed after all.

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! I was rushing this one, guys, I've got a lot on my plate and I'm really hoping I don't have to skip a day to get any schoolwork done. I'm really trying not to! But a shitty attention span really does take its toll after awhile lol
> 
> No AUs today! Just, straight up canon fluff and that's it :)
> 
> Business:   
> Title Credit: Girls Like Me by Will Joseph   
> Disclaimer: the same as it's been so far  
> Prompt: "you're seriously like a man-child"
> 
> No beta as per usual, so hopefully there's not too many mistakes considering how rushed it is!
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys this little bit of nonsense!  
> Come scream at me down in the comments, or at my tumblr http://buckybuck.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> <333


	9. we can have most of it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s dumbfounded. “You forgot where you put her.”
> 
> The tone of Bucky’s voice has Tony’s hands flying up in surrender. He takes a step back. “Look, it’s not a big deal! We’ll find her!” at the glare Bucky shoots his way he takes another step. “I mean, _I’ll_ find her, of course.”

*~**~*

“Okay, so, don’t freak out, but, uh, I lost our baby.” 

Bucky stares at him blankly for a moment, taking in what Tony said. Tony’s looking at him, all waiting eyes and charming, unbothered grin, and Bucky’s just, he’s not sure how those things make sense with what he just said. 

“What do you mean you lost our baby, Stark?” he says, nice and slow, so Tony hears every word.

Tony breathes a nervous little huff of laughter. “Well, you see, Tastee-Freez, I had her and she was happy and not crying, and then, well, Clint brought donuts. So, I set her down to get a classic glazed for one hand and a raspberry jelly for the other, cause you know how much I love my donuts, and, well, I, uh, sort of forgot where I put her?”

He’s dumbfounded. “You forgot where you put her.”

The tone of Bucky’s voice has Tony’s hands flying up in surrender. He takes a step back. “Look, it’s not a big deal! We’ll find her!” at the glare Bucky shoots his way he takes another step. “I mean, _I’ll_ find her, of course.”

“I swear to Thor, Stark, if Sam and Steve do a better job taking care of a fake kid than us I’m going to make sure every cup of coffee you have for the next year is shitty decaf that costs a dollar a can.”

Tony swallows, looking genuinely afraid, his eyes wide with the fear his precious coffee will be contaminated. Good.

“Don’t you worry Bucky-Buckaroo I’m on it. It can’t be that hard to find a plastic baby right? She’s just, she’s gotta be where the donuts are, I’ll just-” he shoves his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the elevator, which lets out a soft ding.

They both turn to watch as Nat steps out, holding the shiny plastic leg of his and Tony’s pride and joy. She eyes them both and holds the doll out. “Are you guys looking for this?”

Tony rushes forward with a wail. “Don’t hold her like that! She’ll probably know and be able to tell Steve.”

Natasha snorts delicately, happily handing the baby over. Tony cradles her gently and coos apologies.

“Where was she?” Bucky asks, turning from Tony to Natasha.

She raises an eyebrow. “Behind the sofa. I think she’s out of battery or something because she wasn’t crying. I was just looking for a throwing knife I lost.”

Tony stops cooing. “Why would there be a throwing knife behind the sofa?”

Nat gives nothing away, just flashes Tony a dimpled grin and says, “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Tony.”

Tony opens his mouth like he’s about to protest, but Bucky cuts him off first. “Thanks, Natalia.”

She nods at the clear dismissal, sending Bucky a knowing look as she turns to leave. Bucky ignores her to look back to Tony, who’s absentmindedly rocking their plastic baby and straightening the little Iron Man onesie Bucky got that Tony, predictably, went crazy for.

He’s actually pretty good at this dad thing, losing the baby in favour of donuts notwithstanding.

Bucky steps close, can’t help it, with the way Tony’s eyes are so warm and open as he looks down at a _fake_ baby. The thought of how incredible a real baby would make Tony look overwhelms him and makes him yearn in equal measures.

Tony looks up at him and smiles, crooked and genuine, and Bucky gives him a small smile back and thinks, _someday_.

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm exhausted! I didn't sleep well last night and finding a prompt that I could write something fast and easy for was a challenge, but I sure managed something! Hope it's enjoyable, anyway lol
> 
> Business:  
> Title Credit: Apple Pie Life by Caitlyn Siehl (not a song for once, but a poem)  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, I claim nothing  
> Prompt: "I lost our baby" and "she was hiding behind the sofa" (which I clearly changed a bit lol)
> 
> No beta, y'all know it by now
> 
> Just wanna thank everyone for leaving kudos and comments! You all make my world go 'round and I love you even though we're strangers :-*  
> Hope you all enjoy this fast little bit on nothing!  
> <333


	10. there's nothing I do better than revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The woman who has them trapped in a conversation doesn’t seem to notice at any rate. And she and Bucky dated for four years before she cheated on him and dumped his beautiful ass for some skinny-tied loser.
> 
> Even if this isn’t the same guy she cheated with, she still downgraded.

*~**~*

Bucky is clearly uncomfortable. His normally relaxed, open eyes are pinched at the edges, and his smile, while looks genuine and charming, if you were to ask anyone who actually knows him they would tell you he doesn’t mean it at all.

The woman who has them trapped in a conversation doesn’t seem to notice at any rate. And she and Bucky dated for four years before she cheated on him and dumped his beautiful ass for some skinny-tied loser.

Even if this isn’t the same guy she cheated with, she still downgraded.

Bucky’s ex laughs again, another dig about Bucky’s long, pulled back hair just tickling her senseless.

Tony’s honestly had enough. 

“Sorry to cut this short, Bertha, but Bucky and I, unfortunately, have to run.” He cuts into another boast about her upcoming wedding and the unnecessary gesture to show off her gaudy ring.

She gives him a cold smile. “My name is Betty.” she turns back to Bucky, her smiling taking a nasty tilt. “And you’ll both come by to see the wedding, right? It’s got the most amazing sight line to Stark Tower. The pictures will be amazing!” 

Bucky reaches out to grip Tony’s bicep, no doubt some sort of warning, but, well, Tony’s not good at listening to those. “Aw, _Betty_ , thanks for the invite but I’m afraid we’ll be out of town that day. Or week. Or month. Whatever.”

Tony doesn’t let her add anything else, just takes Bucky’s hand and starts to step away. He fully intends to leave this pathetic pissing contest of a high school reunion. Not without a few cracks of his own, though.

He turns back before they can get too far, smiling at Betty sweetly. “The diamond in your engagement ring is fake, by the way. Just thought you should know since you’re flinging it around like it’s from Tiffany, clearly you’re unaware you’re making a fool of yourself.”

Betty splutters, her costume ring glinting as she balls her hands into fists. “And how would you know what a real diamond looks like? You’re wearing Walmart jeans to a formal event.”

Tony laughs, ignoring the quiet whisper of his name that comes from over his shoulder. “Honey my _wallet_ cost more than that Party City ring. You know how I know that?” Betty clenches her jaw, openly annoyed. “Because I can actually afford a real diamond.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Bucky’s exasperated voice cuts in. He starts to tug Tony’s hand, obviously done with the whole conversation. Before he can get Tony moving, though, Happy pushes his way through the crowd.

“Mr. Stark!” he calls, rushing over when he finds Tony and Bucky. “Mr. Stark, Pepper called and said there’s something wrong with one of your patents, or percents, or…. something that starts with a p. Anyway, she needs you to call her back to sort it out-”

He waves a hand to cut Happy off. “Yeah, yeah, Happy. Buck and I are ready, lead the way.”

Tony spares Betty a parting smirk, relishing greatly in the slack-jawed look on her face and the way her fiance has turned to her to exclaim “Tony Stark, Betty! You were a raging bitch to _Tony Stark_ for the better part of an hour, you _know_ I was going to apply to Stark Industries. I _told_ you that was him--!”

He doesn’t hear the rest, Happy has taken them too far away. But he doesn’t really care, anyway.

Bucky, who’s been so very quiet throughout the whole exchange, clicks his tongue. “Was all that really necessary, Tony?”

Tony looks over to him, takes in the softness that has returned to his eyes and the confidence that’s creeping back into the set of his shoulders. The fact Bucky no longer looks like a wilting flower is reason enough, but Tony won’t tell him that. “I could have said much worse, Snowdrop, don’t forget.” 

Humming, Bucky let’s go of Tony’s hand to slide his arm around his shoulders instead. Tony responds by slipping his hand into the back pocket of Bucky’s slacks. “I know, sweetheart. Probably shoulda let you, to be honest.”

Tony considers that. He’s not opposed to going back in and continuing right where he left off. Betty might have her high school mean girl schtick, but that’s nothing compared to the ruthlessness that comes from growing up with snotty, selfish rich boys.

After a moment he shrugs. “We can just get married the same day as her and blow her shitty little wedding out of the water.”

Bucky uses the hand around hiss shoulder to tilt Tony’s head and kiss his cheek. “Knew I said yes for another reason besides the money. That genius brain of your sure is a plus, too.”

“And my ass?”

“That’s number one, sweetheart.” 

Tony nods. “As it should be.”

*~**~*

Bucky and Tony did end up getting married the same day as Betty Baker. It was a grand, star-studded affair people could see from the street as they said their tear-filled I do’s on the landing pad of Stark Tower.

His perfect new sister-in-law, Rebecca, gleefully informed Tony that every photo from Betty’s wedding, with its all too important backdrop of the Manhattan skyline, the Tower as the lovely centerpiece, was solidly out-shined by the Barnes-Stark nuptials happening in the background. And that, as a matter of fact, most of the facebook comments were talking about that rather than the wedding itself.

Mission well fucking accomplished.

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rushing hi hello it's almost 5:30am and I'm going at the speed of light to post today's chapter kzdjvzkdasfaksf  
> Please pardon any mistakes I didn't catch! I'm literally finishing this and posting it, I only got to read through it once. I don't know what happened! I didn't start writing any later than I have the past few days! Ugh!
> 
> Business:  
> (a very rushed) Title Credit: Better Than Revenge by Taylor Swift  
> Disclaimer: It's always the same!  
> Prompt: "the diamond in your engagement ring is fake"
> 
> No beta blah blah though I did get a sweet offer today! yay!
> 
> Okay I love you goodbye I hope it's not terrible okay goodnight!!!!  
> <333


	11. I'm the bad guy, duh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thought keeping Tony Stark and Iron Man separate would keep him relatively safe from shit like this, but if he had to guess, he’d say he has to deal with more attempted kidnappings now than ever before. 
> 
> Because with the rise of the Avengers, there’s also the rise of supervillains. And what do a lot of super villains apparently want? A genius billionaire to make them weapons and fund their villainy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter warnings: a bit of vaguely described canon-typical violence

*~**~*

Tony’s no stranger to kidnappings. The first time someone ever knocked him out and held him in some dark little room in hope of a huge payout he was four.

Then again when he was seven. Also eight. There was an attempt when he was nine, it happened again when he was eleven, was gone for two days when he was fourteen, and again at nineteen.

And that’s all before he could legally drink, and long before Afghanistan.

The point is: kidnappings, Tony’s a pro at them.

He thought keeping Tony Stark and Iron Man separate would keep him relatively safe from shit like this, but if he had to guess, he’d say he has to deal with more attempted kidnappings now than ever before.

Because with the rise of the Avengers, there’s also the rise of supervillains. And what do a lot of super villains apparently want? A genius billionaire to make them weapons and fund their villainy.

Turns out, though, that supervillains are no better at the kidnapping schtick than the greedy two-bit thugs who used to do it when he was a child. Maybe a little more creative, their hideouts a little more glamourous, and there’s always _always_ an annoying monologue, but ultimately it’s all the same.

The one difference he can count on these days is-

An explosion sounds in some distant part of this D-team villain’s lair, followed by a whining alarm and a series of gunshots.

-the rescue party.

Tony has no idea how he managed it, but he somehow got himself a rogue Hydra agent for a guardian angel.

He and JARVIS tried to figure it out, combed through hours of surveillance footage of both Tony and Iron Man to find any connection between him and his tall, dark, and presumably handsome stalker, but the only thing they found that it could be was an op gone sideways that ended in a lot of explosions and a bunch of people scattered to the wind.

Maybe one of them was the assassin. Maybe he thinks he owes Iron Man a debt. Who knows, all Tony is sure of is that the man is aware Tony is Iron Man and hasn’t sold any proof to the highest bidder. So, Tony decided he’ll keep him around.

For now.

The door to his boringly predictable only-furniture-is-a-shitty-chair cell slams open, the Big Kahuna of this group rushing in with a few lackeys. Tony’s pretty sure the only thing that makes this guy any kind of special is the weird pulsating gun he no doubt stole from someone way higher on the food chain than him.

The guy, he’s wearing an _actual cape_ , strides forward, putting Tony between himself and the door, like that will matter at all. Two of his henchmen hover near Tony’s sides, and another two stand facing the door, tense like they’re expecting a blow.

One they’re surely going to get.

His kidnapper holds his weird gun to Tony’s head, the energy of it makes his hair stand on end. He has to remember to take that when this is all over. He’d love to figure out what exactly it is. And hey, it’s safer in his hands than anyone else’s.

Tony tilts his head away from the weapon, giving the guy holding it a bored side-eye. “That’s just gonna make him angrier, you really wanna do that?”

The villain (God he’s so lame Tony can’t even remember his name at this point) grips Tony’s chin and yanks him back to the gun, the nozzle of it digging into his temple. “Shut up, Stark. If you’re good I’ll keep the mess minimal and just kill your friend rather than blow him to pieces in front of you.”

He can’t help but snort with a roll of his eyes, looking back to the door. “I wish you luck, pal. My friend gets, uh, tetchy when people get too rough.”

The goon squad waits, all of them are scared out of their minds but are trying to pretend otherwise. Tony’s mostly amused and relaxed, if he could, he’d sit back and make himself as comfortable as possible to watch the show.

As it is, though, his ass is going numb and he really wants to shake out his hands. So if his stalker could _get a move on_ that’d be great-

The door blows open with the impact of a bloody body. Tony winces as it slams into one of the other guys. A flurry of confused gunfire fills the room, some bullets hit the poor guy already broken and bruised, a lot of them hit walls and doors, none of them hit the assassin.

The guy’s a tank, is the thing. A very agile, very heavy, tank. The pretty and shiny metal arm he leads with really helps him a lot, too.

He clears the lackeys quickly. A metal punch here, a stolen gun turned on the owner there. It really happens too fast for Tony to really take in. He’s almost two people at once, he can be on one side of the room breaking a neck and in a blink be on the other tossing a guy into a wall.

It takes a stunningly small amount of time before it’s just Tony, his Hydra stalker, and the fool with a gun to Tony’s head.

The man’s eyes are as hot and blue as a flame. A single-minded focus to eliminate the threat to Tony’s life showing in the hardness of his eyes, the predatory lines of his body, he can’t even see the guy’s mouth behind the ridiculous muzzle he wears, but he has no doubt it’s set in some kind of snarl.

Tony’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it the littlest bit attractive.

“Don’t come closer or I’ll blow his brains all over the room.” The villain demands, his voice bordering on hysterical.

Tall, dark, and deadly tilts his head, his eyes narrowing like he’s considering it.

“That’s right,” the idiot behind him says, apparently deciding he has the upper hand. “just turn around and you can both li--”

Guy really should have known to pay closer attention to an assassin’s hands.

The gun falls to the concrete floor with a clatter, followed a second later by a heavy thump. Tony’s just glad the weird gun didn’t fire and take his foot off with it.

The assassin is on him in an instant, cold metal fingertips brushing gently against the place the gun dug into his temple, the other leather-clad hand cupping Tony’s jaw lightly.

Tony doesn’t have much time to question the unbearably soft gesture, though, because both hands are gone in an instant, instead taking hold of the shackles on Tony’s wrists and prying them apart. He waits patiently for the ones on his ankles to get the same treatment.

His stalker does his normal post-rescue routine, checking all the bodies for, whatever it is he checks them for- trackers, money, signs of life, who knows- while Tony shakes feeling back into his hands and feet. 

After a moment Tony stands up, peering at his kidnapper with a wince. A knife right between the eyes. “At least it was a quick death. Never saw it coming.”

The hard, intense eyes are back. Guy can really hold a grudge it seems. “Он заслужил еще больше боли.”

Tony’s Russian is a little rusty, but he’s sure he got the gist. Is it bad that Tony finds some threatening growling in Russian that hot? “Anyone ever tell you you’re _so_ fucking hot when you’re mad?”

The man blinks, the venom going away in an instant, what’s left behind is much softer. Dare Tony even say fond?

Sighing, the assassin gets up and walks over to Tony, who doesn’t even flinch. If this guy wanted to hurt him, he would’ve done it a long time ago.

The guy bends, picking up the discarded weapon and sets it on the arm of the char Tony was strapped to, indicating for Tony to take it. He does, swallowing at the thought this weird Hydra assassin respects his dumb quirks more than almost anyone else in his life. How the fuck does that make sense?

They’re close, his assassin and him. If he wasn’t wearing that stupid mask it would take very little for Tony to stretch up and be nose to nose with him. The man hums, his eyes are still very soft. “Вечно попадаешь в неприятности, Антошка.”

Tony blinks, darts his tongue out to wet his lips. “Maybe I like trouble.”

And it’s really something else, watching those ice blue eyes grow warm and dark…

Now if he could just get that _stupid_ mask off.

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyooooo another rush posting bc it's 6am! I started writing at 11pm and just finished. I need someone to kick my ass any time I do something other than type words on my keyboard, s2g.  
> As you all can see, there is "Russian" in this fic. Let me apologise for that cause I am not Russian! I started to learn once and got a few weeks in and lost interest like I do with most things. So, I used a translating website, I have no earthly idea if any of it is accurate. If you speak Russian and it's godawful, all I can do is say sorry and that I think your language is really cool and that the internet is to be blamed.  
> (almost forgot to put translations haaaaaah)  
> "Он заслужил еще больше боли." - "He deserved more pain"  
> “Вечно попадаешь в неприятности, Антошка.” -"Always getting into trouble, Antoshka."
> 
>  
> 
> Business:  
> Title Credit: Bad Guy by Billie Eilish which just so happened to be on the radio when I was desperately scrambling for a title. It's also a fucking bop.  
> Disclaimer: I am Poor and own nothing at all  
> Prompt: "you're so fucking hot when you're mad" this fic was gonna be a bit different, and take place in canon, but, well, that clearly changed lol
> 
> Not beta'd yadda yadda
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys! It's a little rushed there at the end, definitely not my strongest ending, but, you win some you lose some.  
> <333


	12. I'm only a fool for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s half the cup in when he remembers Nat’s even there. He peers over at her. She’s finished her cereal and has moved on to staring, her chin propped up on her fists, just smiling serenely at him.
> 
> It’s unnerving, to say the least.

*~**~*

Natasha’s in his kitchen.

Tony stops for a second, looking around for _something_ , he’s not sure what. But he doesn’t find whatever it is, anyway, just ends up with his eyes back on her. For her part, Natasha just gazes back, waiting him out while efficiently and methodically shoving Cheerios into her mouth.

After a moment, she reaches out with a delicate finger to push a coffee mug, one that he didn’t notice through the feeling of _what_ , towards him. He’s reaching out before he even notices, shuffling forward like a coffee-fueled zombie.

Which really isn’t an inaccurate description of him, honestly.

He’s half the cup in when he remembers Nat’s even there. He peers over at her. She’s finished her cereal and has moved on to staring, her chin propped up on her fists, just smiling serenely at him.

It’s unnerving, to say the least.

He stares at her, waiting for her to say whatever she broke into his house for, but they just end up having a staring contest because she doesn’t say shit.

Tony’s going to cave and she knows it. He can’t even stop it at this point, even though he knows she knows, even though he’s completely aware she’s using a power play. 

He sighs, giving in early. “What?”

She immediately starts wiggling her eyebrows at him. “How did your date with Bucky go last night?”

He gulps down the rest of his coffee, sending her a confused look. “It wasn’t a date, Nat.”

She loses the sweetness in the blink of an eye and her hands hit the table with a slap and a flat look. “Yes, it was, Tony.”

“No, it wasn’t, Nat. He invited me over for drinks and to hang out,” he darts out and snatches her mug, finishing what’s left in one swallow. “He didn’t try to make a move or anything.”

Nat closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Did he make dinner?”

Tony groans at the mere thought of it. “Oh, Nat. He made the most delicious Spaghetti alle Vongole I’ve had in years. Almost as good as my grandmother’s recipe, I swear on her dear departed soul.”

The clams, the brine, the perfect al dente pasta. Tony would sell his soul for another bowl of it and would call it a fair trade.

It takes him a moment to realise Nat is looking at him, an eyebrow cocked in question. But he was much too busy daydreaming about pasta to have heard a single thing she said. “What?” 

Nat rolls her eyes. “I said, and why do you think he would make that specific thing when you just so happen to be coming over?”

Tony hadn’t really thought too much about it. “Because he had a hankering for a delicious Italian dish?”

He barely has time to blink before she’s half crawled onto the table, smacking his shoulder. “Why” _smack_ “would” _smack_ “he” _smack_ “make” _smack_ “your” _smack_ “favourite” _smack_ “dish” _smack_ “for” _smack_ “himself?” she hauls off and gives him a big shove. “Tony!”

“Ow! Ow! Nat! Stop hitting me!” he yelps. She lands a few more before falling into her chair with a defeated rush of air. He rubs at his arm gingerly. She’s tiny but she could literally kill him if she wanted. He’s just thankful she didn’t punch, instead. 

Still. It hurt like hell.

He’s about to tell her as much, but she cuts him off. “He was making a gesture, Tony.”

After thinking about it that way, he can kind of see where she’s coming from, but, “Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that?”

She gives him a look like he’s being particularly stupid. She uses it a lot. “It’s your favourite, Tony. He asked Rhodey, you know.”

He bites his lip. “Asked Rhodey what?”

She kicks him under the table. “You’re not this stupid, Tony. He asked what you’d like. What would make you the happiest to have.”

Oh. “Oh.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Yes _oh_.”

Tony’s a little dazed. He can’t lie and say he’s not always had some kind of crush on Bucky. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, for one, but once you get to know the guy all that shit becomes secondary. He’s stunning yeah, but it really doesn’t compare to how much he shines from the inside.

He just, well, he never really thought someone that _good_ would be interested in him. Not that way.

“So, what do I do about it?”

Nat doesn’t even pretend not to know he’s interested. She probably knew before Tony fully realised his attraction wasn’t just to Bucky’s face anymore. She shrugs. “Did he ask you out again?”

He shakes his head.

“Well, Antoshka,” she leans forward, her eyes getting that little glint that usually means Tony’s in for it. “looks like it’s time for you to take some fucking initiative.”

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally got some Nat/Tony brotp looooooove. I won't even lie to you guys and pretend they're not my fave friendship pair in the ot6 group. I dunno what it is about it but I love them, and a close friendship between them is a surefire way to my heart lol
> 
> This, if you're unsure, takes place in a 'verse where everyone is normal. No superheroing going on at all.
> 
> Business:  
> Title Credit: idfc by blackbear (I let my friend Emma name this one, so shout out to her lol)  
> Disclaimer: I got nothing, kiddos  
> Prompt: "ow! ow! stop hitting me!"
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys! I enjoyed writing it, just because of my love for Nat, and my love for that IronWidow friendship magic lol  
> Thanks for reading! You're all sweethearts :-*  
> <333


	13. can you burn a fire in my flesh?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s not stupid. He might not be a boyscout, but his undersuit acts as a thermal and he brought a warm, high-necked pullover just in case, but neither of those things combats the mental way the cold grips him. Knowing how deadly a storm like this can be, how a small fire and a few thin blankets are all he has to keep him from freezing to death tonight is not a comforting thought.

*~**~*

Tony hates Bucky, hates Steve, hates Canada, hates Hydra more than anything, and hates tiny Canadian cabins just as much.

The one upside? Barnes makes good eye-candy and hasn’t told him to shut up yet despite complaining about being stuck in a snowed-in cabin for the last hour and forty-five minutes.

Plus he made Tony a shitty can of old soup. And Tony’s 89.4 percent sure he didn’t put some sort of sedative in it and everything.

The soup warmed him up for a while, but it’s starting to wear off, and the chill that still lingers in the corners of their little hunter’s cabin is starting to wrap around him again. As thankful as he is that there was any dry wood left for them to burn while a winter storm swirls around outside, the fire isn’t enough to effectively heat the drafty one-room cabin.

He’s not stupid. He might not be a boyscout, but his undersuit acts as a thermal and he brought a warm, high-necked pullover just in case, but neither of those things combats the mental way the cold grips him. Knowing how deadly a storm like this can be, how a small fire and a few thin blankets are all he has to keep him from freezing to death tonight is not a comforting thought. 

Bucky would probably make it out fine, Tony on the other hand? He doesn’t have a handy supersoldier serum to keep him alive. 

He shudders and shuffles a bit closer to the fire.

Something heavy thumps behind him, a rush of cold air sends dust and the scent of mildew his way. He turns to glare over his shoulder, finds Barnes giving him an unapologetic smile as he tosses the three blankets they found onto the one and only mattress he apparently took upon himself to haul closer to the fire.

Tony sniffs and looks at Barnes with unimpressed raised eyebrows. “I would’ve helped, you know. All you have to do is ask.”

A sad, limp little pillow lands on the bed with a _whump_. Barnes shrugs. “You stay next to the fire and stay warm, Stark, I can handle a little redecorating without your help.”

Deciding to ignore the slight dig, Tony eyes the mattress with distaste. “What exactly is the plan here, Frosty?”

Barnes doesn’t answer him with words, instead, he strips off his thick cabled sweater, the thermal under it follows, both of them landing with a cloud of dust on the floor. Tony stares at Barnes’ sculpted chest, his perfectly defined abs, a sinking feeling pulls at his stomach. 

Barnes’ eyebrows jump, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Get movin’, Stark. Time to cuddle.”

Tony blinks, his jaw dropping. “Oh, come on!”

*~**~*

So, the whole cuddling for warmth thing? Not the worst idea Barnes has had, Tony’ll admit it. For one, the guy’s a furnace, his skin feels like he’s spent twenty minutes sitting six inches from a blazing inferno, but the temperature never _changes_. It’s glorious and Tony’s a little obsessed with it at the moment. Secondly, Barnes is a good cuddler. He’s firm and confident and knows exactly what position is the best one to keep everyone comfortable. 

So. Could’ve been worse, if Tony’s completely honest.

His peaceful warm cocoon very suddenly becomes a terrible cold cocoon when Barnes rolls away and flips the blankets up.

Tony squawks, going from pleasantly waking up to shocked awake, like someone reached into his brain and yanked him to consciousness. “It’s too cold, asshole! Come back!” 

Barnes huffs a laugh, apparently not too affected by the frigid temperature of the cabin. “Someone’s gotta stoke the fire and get another log on it, Stark, and clearly it ain’t gonna be you.”

Well, duh. Tony’s not convinced he won’t instantly turn to ice if he exposes a single inch of skin to the air. He lets out an impatient sound. “You _are_ the fire, so _get back here_.”

There are a few seconds where Barnes doesn’t do anything, but they pass quickly enough, and he’s sliding back under the blankets with a sigh. Tony almost echoes it as his body heat warms the blankets up again.

However, the relief doesn’t last long, because as soon as he starts to relax, content to go back to a warm doze, Barnes moves closer, his bare chest pressing firmly against Tony’s back. But then it keeps pressing, bearing into him until he’s being squished while Barnes reaches over him, his left arm extended with the poker as he defiantly stirs up the slowly expiring coals.

Tony’s now exposed face and shoulder register the growing warmth as some life is stoked back into the remains of the fire, but it’s nothing compared to Barnes’ skin, the hot smoothness of it. All the strength in his body pressing into Tony and holding him down, the spicy scent of his cologne mixed with his sweat causing heat to pool low in his belly-

Oh.

_Oh shit._

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyoooo! We got some cliche huddling for warmth up in this bitch now, hell yeah!  
> I kind of feel bad because poor Bucky isn't getting any love in the POV department from me. I really gotta get a few from his perspective, huh? I just auto fall to Tony! I dunno why!
> 
> Business Business:  
> Title Credit: Winter by Pvris (I might name a few chapters off this song it's got some great lines. But pvris is god tier, so, unsurprising)  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing  
> Prompt: "it's too cold! come back!"
> 
> Not beta yadda yadda
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys! And thank you all so much to have stuck around with me for this long if you have! It means a lot :-*  
> <333


	14. until the sky falls down on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony should have stopped coming years ago, was close to burning this shitty bridge last year, _but_ , a new reason compelled him to stay. And that reason is currently hanging off the arm of his asshole husband, pretending to sip a drink and laugh at racist jokes, and doing a good job of it if you don’t know what it’s actually like to see him giggle at a shitty pun and down a beer in three long pulls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no terrible warnings but there is Cheating so if that's not your thing.......

*~**~*

Coming to these smarmy get-togethers has always been the bane of Tony’s social existence. Since he was thirty-two and finally gained the “respect” to be invited, to now, at forty-five, when he has to sit and listen to misogynistic, power-hungry assholes spit glory stories through sips of scotch and puffs of choking cigar smoke.

It’s hard for him to pretend to give a shit about what any of these men have to say, he’s not actually sure he succeeds a lot of the time, but they haven’t kicked him out yet and he doubts they ever will, so why should he make an effort?

Tony should have stopped coming years ago, was close to burning this shitty bridge last year, _but_ , a new reason compelled him to stay. And that reason is currently hanging off the arm of his asshole husband, pretending to sip a drink and laugh at racist jokes, and doing a good job of it if you don’t know what it’s actually like to see him giggle at a shitty pun and down a beer in three long pulls.

He can still remember the first time Rumlow brought Bucky to one of these meetings, making a commotion about it, showing off his husband like a shiny new watch. Tony had to give it to him, the guy was pretty, _is_ pretty, with a strong jawline, piercing blue eyes, and he can fill out a pair of tight jeans like no one’s business.

But, as Tony was lucky to find out a few meetings in, he’s also cuttingly sarcastic, has a dry sense of humour that he brings out at the worst times, is a huge mother hen, and that his heart is way too big and sweet to be in love with a bastard like Brock Rumlow.

And that’s the thing, he’s not in love with Rumlow. He admitted it to Tony in the dark, where it’s a lot easier to be brave, after the third time they fell into bed together. He sounded sad and guilty, and Tony, his heart just as soft and big as Bucky’s no matter how much he pretends it’s not, slipped his hand into Bucky’s and held tight.

Nine months and a sickening amount of sneaking around later and Tony knows he’s getting farther and farther away from the point where he should have stopped. But, oh, is he a sucker for those blue eyes and that sweet smile.

Tony rolls his eyes as Senator WhatsHisName makes another crass comment about wanting to fuck his barely legal nanny, yearning desperately to leave, but he won’t leave until Bucky does. That’s just how it goes.

He glances over to the table where Rumlow’s trying, and probably failing, to sound impressive and imposing, and Bucky’s nodding along in disinterested silence, staring down at the ice melting in his drink.

Bucky glances up, his blue eyes catching Tony’s. He pulls his head up and gives Tony that sweet little half-cocked smile. After a few precious seconds of eye contact, Bucky turns, murmuring something to Rumlow, and with a kiss to his cheek, gets up and leaves.

Tony discreetly thumbs something onto his Stark Watch and sits back to impatiently wait the ninety seconds it’ll take for his phone to ring in a fake call and an excuse to get out of this stifling room.

His phone finally starts to ring and he jumps to take it, apologising and begging off on his way to the door, flicking the noise off absently as he slips through the entrance and passed the man who guards it. He hangs left, walking to the end of the corridor and into the stairwell, taking four flights down to where Bucky’s waiting for him, a bright smile already on his face, his eyes soft. 

Bucky pulls him in as soon as he’s in arm’s reach, turns them around and leans into him. His hands are gentle when they cradle Tony’s face, when they slip into Tony’s perfectly styled hair, taking care not to mess it up. 

Tony hates it. But he pretends not to.

He grips Bucky back just as carefully, folding his hands delicately over his hips, taking care not to wrinkle the expensive material of his shirt. He kisses Bucky, softly, over and over, losing himself to it, the ebb and flow, the helpless familiarity of it.

After too short a time-

(it’s always too short)

\- Bucky pulls away with a last lingering kiss to Tony’s forehead, his foot already poised to step back. “Gotta get back, sweetheart.” His voice is barely a whisper but it’s enough to shake Tony’s bones, anyway.

Tony’s fingers curl and tug. He doesn’t want Bucky to walk away from him again. Is so tired of him going home with someone else. “I know I’ve kissed you, like, ten times already, but just, I dunno, ten more. Please?”

Bucky chuckles and takes his step, but Tony doesn’t let go. “Bucky…” 

He finally looks, actually looks at Tony for more than a second, and he stops. The amused tick to his mouth slowly fades away and they’re left just staring at each other. Tony doesn’t know what Bucky sees, maybe it’s the heartsick furious way Tony wants him, but whatever it is makes him swallow, his eyes tuning wide and desperate. “What do you want me to do, Tony?”

He has no right, absolutely none, to ask Bucky to leave his current life to build one with him, no matter how painful it is to do otherwise, no matter how hard the words try to punch passed his teeth. So he keeps them in, bites them back, and says instead, “Just this, Buck.” and pulls him in again.

Like those words didn’t sound the exact same as the others would. Like Bucky couldn’t fucking hear them anyway.

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, uh, long time no see, pals!  
> First off, let me apologise for being away for so long. I never intended to ever take a break from this until it was finished and I made it to the eternal break of a finished product, but unfortunately the universe had other plans! Monday night I came down with a 103 fever and it decided to stick around (luckily at a slightly lower and less emergency inducing 101) until friday morning. It was godawful lol then on top of that! I realised I had somehow missed two entire units in one of my online classes, AND that this week the big end of class paper is due! Which was problematic, you see, since I only got the energy to start my weekly work on wednesday. So, it's been a stressful week, and unfortunately, school has to come first, but I've finished that paper (mostly), so I decided to start this back up again! I can only hope I fall back into it as easily as I did the first time.
> 
> Onto actual story stuff, yes Bucky is married to Rumlow, idk why he's the only asshole I can ever think of to be Bucky's ex or current shitty boyfriend. But I couldn't very well give Bucky someone GOOD in a fic about him cheating on that person with Tony. That's just too scummy for me lol
> 
> Business:  
> Title Credit: Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden (who's old enough to jam to this song with me? Who still feels that shit in their SOUL??)  
> Disclaimer: while I'm SICK, I'm not sick enough to own marvel properties  
> Prompt: “I know I’ve kissed you, like, ten times, but just, like, another ten, please”
> 
> No beta
> 
> Thank you so much for coming back if you did! Sorry again to anyone I may have let down not updating for almost a week. I let myself down more than anyone, I think, but I really wasn't in a place to write and I gotta accept that.  
> Hope everyone enjoys!  
> <333


	15. hit me with your punch-drunk love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony pulls his hands from Bucky’s hair and cradles his head instead, giving him a few gentle pats. “Bucky, honey, are you drunk?”

*~**~*

Tony looks down at the crown of Bucky’s head, the only part of him he can actually see from this angle, raising his eyebrows at his disheveled hair. He glances around the room to his friends and teammates, finding them all in various stages of wilted and giggling. The only one of them that seems even remotely aware of what’s going on is Steve, and he’s clearly just as inebriated as everyone else, but he’s managing to stare over at Tony and Bucky with a sappy look and soft smile on his face.

Bucky nuzzles his face into Tony’s shirt, grumbling something about him smelling nice while his arms squeeze and his fingers twist into the fabric over Tony’s back. He brings his hands up to rest on Bucky’s shoulders, giving them a faint squeeze.

“You okay there, Buck?”

“No,” Bucky answers miserably, pressing his face further into Tony’s diaphragm. “I missed you.”

Tony’s body goes a little stiff, and he can’t help but look around to see if anyone is watching, but even Steve’s attention has wavered, and besides Nat, who’s always paying attention to everything, and Friday, they’re basically alone.

Plus, Bucky’s the one who started this whole PDA thing. Tony didn’t even know there was A to PD, but he’s quickly learning he was wrong. Or maybe Bucky’s just a secretly cuddly guy and the person he occasionally gets all sweaty in the sheets with is an obvious choice to get it from. 

So he throws caution to the wind and slides his hands from Bucky’s shoulders into his soft hair, threading his fingers through the silky strands to scratch along his scalp. He tugs a little, encouraging Bucky to tilt his head back so Tony can see his face. Bucky complies with a heartfelt sigh, looking up at Tony with unfocused eyes and flushed cheeks.

Tony pulls his hands from Bucky’s hair and cradles his head instead, giving him a few gentle pats. “Bucky, honey, are you drunk?”

Bucky blinks up at him, slow and processing, his slightly open mouth is a horribly distracting shade of pink. After a moment that Tony spends wondering if Bucky clinging to him like this means he can get away with just a small, little, kiss, Bucky finally seems to find a response.

“I had, just a little, of Thor’s fancy beer,” he blinks again. At least his speech isn’t slurred, so he can’t be that wasted. “Mead. His fancy mead.”

Well, that definitely explains it. The only thing they’ve been able to find that has more than a minor effect on Steve and Bucky is the mead Thor occasionally brings back after he visits home. It still takes a bit, but it actually has the effect it’s meant to after a while.

Tony pats Bucky’s cheek. “And how much did you have?”

Leaning forward Bucky rests his chin on Tony’s abdomen. “I only had three tankards.”

Tony sighs and runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair again. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Bucky tugs at Tony’s shirt, his eyes bright and wide when he whispers, way above anything close to conspiring, “Steve had four.”

Someone snorts and Steve weakly whines out a “hey” that Tony can’t help but grin at. “Well, that’s because Steve’s a problem child.”

Steve’s indignant refusal is worth the way Bucky giggles and presses his face into Tony’s shirt again and says delightedly, “He _is_.” 

After a few sleepy nuzzles into the soft cotton of his shirt, Tony makes an executive decision that it’s time for Bucky to call it a night. He taps Bucky’s cheek and tries to pull away. “Come on, Tastee Freez, I think you’ve had enough. Time to go to bed.”

Bucky whines and clutches Tony tighter, refusing to let him take a step back. “Nooo, I don’ wanna.”

Another put upon sigh breezes through Tony’s lips, it’s all for show though. This might be the cutest thing he’s ever seen and he’s fully prepared to have Friday send him a copy of the security footage. “I’ll drag you to your room myself, James Barnes.”

A shining blue eye peers up at him through a veil of dark hair. “Promise?”

Resigning himself to escorting a drunk Bucky back to his floor, Tony rolls his eyes and nods, a smile pulling at his lips. “Promise.”

With that Bucky lurches to his feet, the weight of him leaning heavily into Tony almost pitches them both to the floor. Luckily Tony’s a lot heartier than he looks. He turns for the elevator, his and Bucky’s feet trying to tangle on their way there, but he somehow manages to make it to the waiting doors, turning to glance over his shoulder he starts to say, “And I’ll be back for the re-” but realises it’s falling on deaf ears, because everyone else has managed to pass out. He takes in the uncomfortable slouch Steve’s in, the ungainly sprawl of Thor and Clint, and the small ball Nat’s rolled herself into and rolls his eyes. Physically dragging the deadweight of a supersoldier and Asgardian god to their beds is way above Tony’s paygrade. They can all stay there.

He steps into the elevator, Bucky stumbling in with him, and waits for Friday to close the doors and set them on their way down to Bucky’s floor. He has to lean against the wall, Bucky’s fucking heavy, even if you don’t count the metal arm, and he’s clinging to Tony like a limpet.

Bucky buries his face in Tony’s neck, making soft pleased little sounds, and Tony melts against the wall a little. He runs a hand up and down Bucky’s side and gives in to the urge to rest his temple against the silky slide of his hair. Bucky sighs and gently clutches Tony’s shirt again. “Missed you. Don’t like it when you’re gone so long.”

Tony swallows, not really sure what to make of that. Bucky’s never expressed anything more than physical attraction and the desire for a supremely satisfying roll between the sheets before now.

Or, Tony doesn’t _think_ he has…

Bucky sighs again, a lot less content and more a lot more melancholy and Tony realises that maybe he’s been missing something important. “I was only gone four days, sweetheart.”

“I know,” Bucky breathes against Tony’s skin. “still missed you, though.”

The elevator comes to a stop with a gentle bounce and a silent slide of doors, and Bucky’s quiet little voice murmuring, “I like you.”

Tony’s heart jumps at the soft vulnerability of it. A simple little confession. He blinks at their slightly warped reflection in the shiny metal of the opposite wall, at the way Bucky leans his whole body into him, and the almost involuntary way Tony’s pressing back. 

“I like you too, Buck.”

He’s graced with yet another sigh, only this one is deeper, almost relieved, like that’s exactly what Bucky wanted to hear.

Shaking himself a bit, Tony brings a hand up to cradle Bucky’s jaw and give it a gentle nudge. “Alright, Romeo, let’s go.” Bucky sways back the barest bit but refuses to actually budge. “You gotta work with me, here, sweetheart. If you’re good I’ll even tuck you in.”

Bucky swings back, finally putting a little distance between them and standing on his own. He rolls his eyes, the motion a bit sloppy. “Tuck _us_ in, Tony.”

Tony scoffs, gently guiding Bucky toward the door. “I think not, Barnes, not three tankards of fancy mead in.”

The grace that Bucky manages when he twirls around to face him is impressive considering his state, but the fact it takes him three tries to find the doorknob brings it right back. “I like it when you call me James,” his easy smile turns a little dopey. “Or Snowdrop. I really like that one.”

Tony has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. God he’s never going to let Bucky live this down. Once they talk about all this feelings stuff when Bucky’s sober, he’s going to make sure Thor brings home as much mead as his godly arms can carry. Loose-tongued, sappy Bucky might be Tony’s new favourite.

“Well, Snowdrop,” the grin he gets for that could probably rival the arc reactor with how bright it is. Tony’s breath ends up a little short, but he ignores it for pride’s sake. “I’m going to tuck you in, tell you goodnight, and if you remember this in the morning, I promise tomorrow night I’ll do it all again, and I’ll even join you.”

Bucky gently comes to a stop, the warm glow of the lone lamp in his living room makes him look so soft and inviting that Tony’s not sure leaving is worth it, actually.

It is, but…

“Promise?” Bucky’s voice is low, and his eyes surprisingly steady.

“Promise.”

After a second of more staring, Bucky tips forward and falls into him, apparently all needy and snuggly again, and Tony huffs a laugh and, with great difficulty, steers him toward the bedroom.

*~**~*

The workshop is oddly quiet, but Tony’s reached the point of tired that wall-shakingly loud music just feels more wrong than right. So it’s ambient-quiet, and the lights are low aside from the schematics he has projecting around him, even Friday is keeping her metaphorical mouth shut, so the sound of boots on the polished concrete floors is hard to miss.

Tony glances up, a small smile slipping free when he finds Bucky on the other side of the table he’s working at, leaning down and making himself comfortable with his chin resting in his palm. 

“What can I do for you, James?”

Bucky’s eyebrow twitches, quick, just once, a sweet smile curling the corners of his mouth. Tony’s heart jumps unsteadily in his chest. Bucky leans forward. “Pretty sure you promised to tuck _us_ into bed, Tony.”

Tony blinks. He’d honestly thought Bucky’d forgotten. But no, he’s staring up at Tony, his eyes star bright from the reflection of the projections around them, clearly waiting to see if Tony really meant it.

And Tony did. Every bit of it. 

“Well,” he flicks the schematics away as Friday shuts the lab down around them. “I can’t break a promise, can I?”

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah. Long time no see, friends. I have no excuses for falling off the everyday post wagon for this series. After I couldn't write thanks to being so sick last week the motivation just completely left me. I haven't been able to write more than a few words at a time since. I guess the fever burned it out or something.
> 
> Well, that and I am, like, a metric ton of depression disguised as a human in a trench coat, so, that really doesn't do me any favours. I'm still gonna finish this, but I doubt it'll be particularly quickly, much to my own crushing disappointment, tbh.
> 
> This one isn't my best by far, but I'm still trying?
> 
> Business Shit:  
> Title Credit: Punch-Drunk Love by The Summer Set  
> Disclaimer: still don't own a thing  
> Prompt: "are you.... drunk?"
> 
> No beta, as usual
> 
> Thanks for sticking around and still reading even though I haven't delivered on my promise of everyday updates! I appreciate you guys a lot :-* Hope you'll continue to wait patiently for this bitch to be done lol  
> <333


	16. I don't know how to be something you miss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s curls are twisted and sticking up like he took a joyride in the armour without the helmet, and there are actual pillow creases slashing across his face, but the obvious fact that Tony actually slept isn’t the reason Bucky’s stopped up short.

*~**~*

Bucky glances up as he hears someone shuffle into the kitchen, preparing any number of greetings depending on who it is, but it all dries up on his tongue when Tony walks through the doorway. He doesn’t notice Bucky, or, he doesn’t acknowledge that he notices Bucky, just goes straight for the coffee pot.

Tony’s curls are twisted and sticking up like he took a joyride in the armour without the helmet, and there are actual pillow creases slashing across his face, but the obvious fact that Tony actually slept isn’t the reason Bucky’s stopped up short. 

His eyes catch helplessly on the too-long sleeves of the shirt Tony’s wearing, the way they reach all the way to the tips of his fingers, how they would go even farther if Tony didn’t have them bunched at his wrists. His gaze flits to the open collar and how it strays to one side, leaving the long line of Tony’s neck exposed, the smooth stretch of skin that leads to the elegant jut of his collarbone that Bucky can’t even see, but desperately has him wishing Tony would turn around so he could _actually see_ it.

Tony shifts as he reaches for a coffee mug, and Bucky’s eyes trail down his arms, and his heart jumps a little in his chest when the way the left sleeve is obviously stretched and misshapen finally registers. He hoped, probably a little stupidly, that he was right when Tony walked in, that he was actually wearing Bucky’s shirt. But now that he knows that Tony _is_ , he can’t calm his pulse, can’t stop the way his mind is skipping over it like a broken record.

His brain flashes back, between the quiet possessive whispers of _he’s wearing my shirt_ , to the long expanse of hot, naked skin under his hands, a scarred up chest heaving in desperate breaths, clenching fingertips gripping him tight enough to leave quick-fading bruises.

It was just the one time, a little over three weeks ago. Bucky wasn’t even aware he left his shirt behind.

Maybe if he’d actually had the courage to approach Tony again, to tell him he’d really like to take him out, if he’d be willing. That he’d very much like to kiss him at the end of the night, and maybe, if it works out, maybe he could be the one to coax Tony up to bed when he’s spent too long in the workshop. Take him apart, touch all that pretty skin again, get to wake up next to him in the morning.

But, well, Bucky can be brave, but the thing about charging headfirst into a firefight is that a bullet can’t really reject you. Tony, however? He could tell Bucky it was a one-time thing, something that he doesn’t really have the desire to repeat. Thanks but no thanks.

And Bucky’s not scared to admit that he’s a bit too far gone on Tony for that not to be pathetically crushing. 

The question is, though, is Tony wearing the shirt because it’s big and warm and, as Bucky can confirm, worn soft and comfortable, or is he wearing it because it’s Bucky’s? Because maybe it reminds Tony of him?

During his hopeful realisation and subsequent internal struggle Tony’s apparently consumed enough coffee to be aware, has woken up enough to turn around realise Bucky’s also in the kitchen.

“Morning, soldier.”

His voice is a honey-smooth murmur, as warm as the coffee he’s drinking. And Bucky, who’s about as subtle as Steve’s shield to the face blurts, “Are you wearing my shirt?”

Tony blinks at him, his mug tipped to his mouth in the beginning of a sip. He pulls it away, though, to look down. He brings his free hand up to pluck at the material over his stomach, the dark red of it contrasting beautifully with the colour of his skin. He smiles, soft and sleep-open, his fingertips caressing the shirt gently. “Yeah. It’s comfortable.”

Bucky’s heart sinks, thumping mournfully in his chest. Really he should have known it wasn’t anything to do with him, the shirt _is_ soft-

“Still smells like you.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to blink, wide-eyed and frozen. Tony’s not looking at him like it’s any sort of revelation, like he didn’t just say something that’s tipped Bucky’s whole world in a completely different direction.

“And that’s, good?” he asks, sounding a little lost.

Tony smiles again and closes the distance between the counter where his coffee sits and the table where Bucky’s been eating his early breakfast. “Bucky, if my sheets weren’t so fucking filthy after that night I’d still have them on my bed because they smelled so much like you I could trick my stupid heart into thinking you’d be coming back at some point.”

Bucky’s brain flatlines while his heart trips over itself to beat double time. “You wanted me to come back?”

Tony’s eyes are wide and bright, he swallows, and there’s a vulnerable tilt to the way he’s holding himself. The first brush of it Bucky’s seen. The same fragile, helpless feeling that kept him from saying anything is reflected back at him as a shade of what Tony’s probably actually feeling.

“I want,” Tony straightens a little, squaring his shoulders like he’s physically pulling the courage forward kicking and screaming. “I want to take you out tonight. Maybe. If you’d like.”

It looks like he has to force himself to shut up, clenching his teeth and pressing his lips together to keep from rambling on in a way Bucky always finds more charming than annoying.

Bucky, though? He feels like he’s on the moon.

“As a date?”

Tony’s fingers twitch, and Bucky watches helplessly as the sleeves fall past his fingertips. “Yes. As a date.”

His eyes find Tony’s again, dark and steady and open. “Any way we can make it a breakfast date?”

Gaze flicking down to Bucky’s mostly eaten plate, at the obvious fact he’s already _had_ breakfast, Tony smiles, slow and sweet.

And Bucky? He’s fucking gone. And he’d happily never make his way back to himself as long as he wakes up to that every morning.

Which, watching Tony’s shy, happy smile, he can’t help but giddily think, _maybe tomorrow._

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey! I produced another thing! And in Bucky's pov no less!  
> I actually would have posted this last night but since I randomly got the motivation to write it at like 4am and finished it at 6-ish, meaning it was well past my bedtime, I didn't have the time to polish it up before posting so I just decided to wait until I could look at it with less tired eyes. Since, ya know, I'm depression tired 95% of my day, but even that's slightly more functional than "I've been up for 18hrs" tired lol
> 
> Business:  
> Title Credit: Last Kiss by Taylor Swift (such angsty lyrics for a drabble that's not got very much angst lol)  
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything in my life  
> Prompt: "are you wearing my shirt?"
> 
> No beta blahdy-blah
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys! I'm trying to get back into producing chapters for this at least every other day if I can't manage every day anymore. I hope I can stick to it?
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> <333


	17. why don't you run from me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since, you know, he’s not just a normal Hydra assassin, no, it’s just Tony’s luck the most prolific assassin in history, one that’s thought of more as a fabled boogeyman than a real tangible person, has imprinted onto him for reasons Tony still hasn’t figured out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of chapter 11: "I'm the bad guy, duh"

*~**~*

Tony has learned a few new things about his sudden, yet entirely unsurprising, roommate.

1) The guy’s weird. Which, maybe that should be kind of obvious considering, from what Tony’s gathered, he’s not really been taught to just, be a human person? He’s a weapon, he acts like a guy who was only ever taught to fight and stalk and completely disregard normal things. Like eating for more than just keeping your body going, or what an okay amount of knives to carry on your person is, or, like, how to shower.

Which, oh wow was that an experience Tony is wholly keen not to repeat, but also one that he wouldn’t mind repeating under much different, much better circumstances.

2) He’s painfully attractive under the muzzle. Tony finally got him to take it off after that day in the bunker. It was a few days later, after he’d followed Tony home and steadfastly refused to leave, but he finally convinced the guy to take it off. And let Tony be the first to tell you, his face is almost enough to make a person weak in the knees.

3) He hates tomatoes and will pout and give Tony the silent treatment if there are any anywhere near his food.

4) He doesn’t really know the meaning of personal space.

5) Related to number four, he’s a cuddler and refuses to sleep in his own bed, even though Tony offered him whichever he wanted in the Tower. He just so happened to have chosen Tony’s. Literally. Tony tried sleeping in one of the guest rooms one night, thinking for some reason it was just Tony’s mattress, or the room, or something, but nope. About an hour after he dragged himself to bed, exhausted and sore from Iron Man business, his assassin puppy crawled in after him, clamped a metal arm around Tony’s middle, buried his nose in Tony’s hair, and pressed in close. After that Tony just sort of accepted it as it is.

6) He has nightmares, the details of which are hardly ever shared, but the few that have been said set Tony’s teeth on edge, spark a raging fire in his chest that won’t be satisfied until Hydra’s burned to the ground.

7) Not only can he speak English and Russian, but also eleven other languages.

8) His name is James, but hearing it makes him twitch, his eyes going far-away and haunted, so Tony calls him Winter instead.

Since, you know, he’s not just a normal Hydra assassin, no, it’s just Tony’s luck the most prolific assassin in history, one that’s thought of more as a fabled boogeyman than a real tangible person, has imprinted onto him for reasons Tony still hasn’t figured out.

9) He’s insecure.

“Why do you even let me stay here, Antoshka?”

10) He has bad days.

“Какие будут приказания?”

11) He’s absolutely terrified he’s going to hurt Tony.

“Why aren’t you scared of me? I could slit your throat while you sleep, snap your neck while your back is turned. I could forget who you are and put a bullet in your brain before either of us has a chance to remind me.”

Tony, logically, has no reason to trust Winter. Shouldn’t, really. Considering who he is, where he comes from, the fact that Hydra has clearly messed with his mind somehow, and while it works through fixing whatever the fuck it was, they’re both left at risk.

But he is getting better. The days where Winter wakes up speaking his clipped, monotonous Russian grow further and far-between. He remembers more and keeps the memories (which are a whole other can of worms Tony hasn’t even brought himself to touch without some context, because a guy who doesn’t look a day over thirty on his absolute worst days should not have memories from 1939, ‘42, ‘67, _or_ ‘79, okay).

Plus, he’s never once raised a hand to Tony, not even in the throes of his worst nightmares, or the mornings he’s clearly slipped a little too far into the Winter _Soldier_ rather than just Winter. A slip that usually leaves him stalking around the Tower, predatory and searching, like he’s looking for a target even though there’s no one around to give him one. 

Has he gotten all violent and sexy on Tony’s _behalf_ , though? Yes. More times than Tony can remember at this point. So much he’s surprised Hydra hasn’t caught on yet.

Point is, Winter doesn’t want to hurt Tony, but Tony has no doubt that he’s perfectly safe exactly as they are.

“First off, Winter Wonderland, you’ve never once even _looked_ at me with more than mild annoyance, and that’s usually because _I’m_ doing something stupid and reckless to _myself_ ,” Tony leans forward in his seat at the counter, reaching out to flick Winter between the eyes. “Second, if I felt, even for a second, that you were a threat to me I’d lock you in the safe room until you were back to normal. I’m not a complete helpless idiot, you know, I have precautions and systems in place specifically to deal with the threats a person like you poses to me.”

Winter only looks moderately appeased by that. The wild look around his eyes has faded slightly, but the tension in his shoulders hasn’t moved an inch.

Tony sighs. “Look, Winter, I’m Iron Man, hell I’m Tony Stark! If there’s one person on the planet who can make a literal fortress out of their home it’s me,” he shrugs. “Plus, I got JARVIS, who’s much smarter and much more cautious than I am. So, if you don’t have enough faith in me, have some in him. Pretty sure he’d have no problem taking you down if the need ever arises.”

Winter glances to the ceiling, to JARVIS’s nearest camera. The wildness around his eyes is at zero, but the tension’s still at about eighty-seven percent.

“Doesn’t matter, though,” he waits until he has Winter’s eyes again, makes sure he’s paying attention to what Tony’s about to say. “I trust you, Winter. I trust you to be here, and I trust you not to hurt me.”

The vulnerability in Winter’s expression is almost too much for Tony to take. He’s not exactly equipped for this kind of stuff, isn’t sure how to handle it when someone is looking at him with that much emotion on their face, but, he can’t bring himself to look away. Couldn’t bear it if Winter took it as something other than Tony being a stunted asshole who would do almost anything to wipe that look off his face, no matter if Winter wanted him to or not.

And it's not because it makes Tony uncomfortable, but because seeing it breaks his heart a little, knowing that Winter doesn’t think of himself the way Tony does, trusting and content and deliriously happy he’s made his way into Tony’s life, makes him want to do stupid things to make Winter believe it.

“I think I’d like it if you called me James.”

Tony blinks, Winter’s- no, _James’s_ \- soft voice breaking into his thoughts like a gentle wave. “James?”

The reaction he gets surely would have sent Tony on his ass if he’d not already been sitting. It’s almost like James melts into someone else, someone a little more comfortable to wear. His shoulders drop, his movements come a little easier, his face is a little more relaxed, more open. He’s looking at Tony with dark, half-lidded eyes.

Tony swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “I can do that.”

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup, fam? I have produced a new thing on this late Thursday night, early Friday morning.  
> This one, as stated previously, is a continuation of chapter 11, which I enjoyed immensely and for which a random Billie Eilish lyric has sparked more content. Legit, I was searching for a prompt that gave me even the littlest bit of inspiration, but as I was searching I was listening to Billie's album and Bury a Friend came on and whoops! There was my inspo! Two hours later and we all got this lol
> 
> Oh shit! Almost forgot my no doubt incorrect Russian translation! Bc I still don't know Russian and rely on the lying internet: "What are my orders?"
> 
> Business:  
> Title Credit: Bury a Friend by Billie Eilish (which, is kinda funny, because, unknowingly, I have named both chapters in this 'verse after Billie Eilish songs lol)  
> Disclaimer: I own not the recognisable content, nor the title  
> Prompt: "why aren't you scared of me?"
> 
> No beta, we die with like men: with shame
> 
> Hope everyone likes the new chapter! I'm still truckin' along! Thanks for being in the passenger seat with me, friends :-*  
> <333


	18. I got cat class and I got cat style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony, apparently having woken up enough to figure out what’s going on, scoffs. “He acts like he’s never seen me naked before.”
> 
> Bucky’s fingers curl possessively on where they landed to rest near Tony’s hip when he transformed. “Why has Barton seen you naked?”

*~**~*

Bucky pauses as another disgruntled huff sounds from somewhere behind his left shoulder. After a moment of nothing but silence and stillness, he begins to move again, slowly and quietly dipping his brush in solvent and plunging the bore of his sniper rifle. He gets through exactly four passes into the barrel before he hears another frustrated sigh, followed this time by a hushed growl.

Suppressing a smile, Bucky takes the rod out of the rifle and goes about cleaning it off, and keeps himself from putting too much weight into it when he says, “C’mere, sweetheart, you can sit in my lap ‘til I’m done.”

There’s a funny long-drawn “mrrr”, and to Bucky, it sounds an awful lot like a stubborn grumble, but it’s followed by a muted thump, and a moment later a sleek dark brown cat hops into his lap with perfect haughty grace.

Bucky doesn’t dare stop cleaning his gun to bury his fingers into that soft fur and run his hand along the beautiful black stripes that decorate the cat’s flank, even though he really really wants to. He knows that wouldn’t go over well right now, not with the pissed off look he’s been sporting since they got him home.

But, in the end, holding back doesn’t matter. “Tony,” he chastises gently as Tony butts into his hand. He lets out a retorting meow and nudges into Bucky’s hand harder. He laughs, pulling them out of Tony’s reach. “Tony I’m tryin’ to clean my gun before it gunks up, c’mon.”

“ _Meow,_ ” is Tony’s thought about that, along with a clawed paw getting ahold of Bucky’s flesh hand and giving a hard jerk.

He can’t help the hiss that rushes through his teeth at the sharp sting of pain, and, of course, he relents, giving into Tony like always. He abandons his rifle on the table and gets both hands into Tony’s silky fur, using one to smooth down his back, and the other to scritch under his chin.

Tony’s odd looking brown eyes (odd for a cat, anyway) don’t lose all of their discontent, but Bucky can see they’re starting to melt now that Tony’s getting the attention he decided he wanted.

Bucky sighs and leans back in his chair. “As cute as you are with cat ears and bein’ small enough to fit in my lap, doll, I’d rather have human you sittin’ here instead.”

Tony makes a small noise Bucky chooses to take as agreement and follows it with a vicious hiss. Bucky sighs again, giving Tony a soft pet. “I know, sweetheart. I promise, next time Loki shows himself, he ain’t gonna have time to even open his mouth before I shove my fist inside it.”

Under Bucky’s hand, Tony begins to purr.

*~**~*

He and Clint are the only ones still awake at 2a.m. at the end of the day, both sprawled sleepily in the common floor’s living room. Clint is laid out on the hardwood, blinking blankly at the tv, and Bucky’s half lying on the couch, Tony a warm, sleeping ball in his lap.

Aside from Tony being turned into a cat, it was a pretty good day. No one got hurt, the fight against Loki was less a battle and more an excuse for him to make fun of everyone and cause a little ruckus. Which is probably why only Tony got singled out and affected by whatever Loki did, he’s always the best at the witty comeback thing.

Bucky’s well on the wrong side of awake, hand resting lightly on Tony’s softly rising and falling side, eyes closed and senses softening down to a pleasant muted hum. But between one breath and the next his hand goes from resting on sinfully silky fur to gripping smooth, naked skin.

He makes a strangled sound, suddenly feeling very much awake, his eyes snapping open to meet a pair of sleepy and confused brown ones.

“Aw shit, my eyes!” Clint exclaims, Bucky’s sudden noise of alarm must have caught his attention. Bucky looks down to find that Tony is very much as naked as his cat self was. With his face covered and dramatic wordless wailing, Clint flails to his feet, bumping into a chair, table, and wall on his hurried way out the door.

Tony, apparently having woken up enough to figure out what’s going on, scoffs. “He acts like he’s never seen me naked before.”

Bucky’s fingers curl possessively on where they landed to rest near Tony’s hip when he transformed. “Why has Barton seen you naked?”

Turning his nose to the air, Tony sniffs snobbily. “I look great and everyone should see me naked at least once in order to have a fulfilled life.” He pauses when Bucky does nothing but raise his eyebrows, then shrugs. “Plus, Clint doesn’t know how to knock.”

Whatever movie playing on the tv flashes brightly for a second, lighting up the room and something that glints near Tony’s throat, catching Bucky’s attention. He reaches out with his left hand, it tinks against his fingers and it dawns on him exactly what it is. “Looks like Loki let you keep the collar.”

“That’s because Loki is a perverted degenerate,” Tony informs him icily.

Bucky hums and curls a finger into the gap between the red and gold collar and Tony’s tan skin and gives it a tug. “I dunno, sweetheart, seems pretty useful to me.” He pulls again, gentle but insistent, and Tony follows the movement, easy as anything.

Their lips meet and Bucky realises just how much he’s missed the real, human, Tony all day. He pulls back, moving his hand to cradle Tony’s jaw. “I missed you today, Antoshka.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “I was up your ass all day, Buck, how could you possibly have missed me at all?”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t the same.”

Tony looks at him, his eyes sparkling in the low light, after a moment they go soft and he leans in for another lingering kiss. “Wanna go to bed and celebrate the return of my human body?” He asks, eyebrows wiggling.

Bucky huffs a laugh, but he slides his arms under Tony anyway, holds him close as he stands up. He heads for the elevator, nosing at Tony’s cheek. “Think you can still purr?”

“Oh, Buck,” Tony says, his voice going low, the perfect throaty purr. “I’ll make any noise you want.”

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't added to this in approximately seven decades and I bring y'all _this_.... I apologise. But BOY have I been fully unable to stick with a damn single prompt I choose to write for this fic. I'm still bound and determined to finish though, might it possibly take the rest of my life? Sure, but oh it will get done lol
> 
> Same old washed up story, lads, I'm on the struggle bus at all times and that's just How My Life Is and I can no longer make excuses for my lack of updates, this is just. How it goes and hopefully one day I'll be better.
> 
> Business Section:  
> Title Credit: I had no idea where to go with this one but thankfully google is a real one, so: Stray Cat Strut by Stray Cats. Never heard it but, hey, it fits for a title.  
> Disclaimer: I own not a thing  
> Prompt: “C’mere, you can sit in my lap until I’m done working.”
> 
> Still not consistent enough to bother a sweet person to be my beta.
> 
> Hope everyone gets some kinda positive emotion out of this sorry little drabble! I'm onto hopefully starting the next!  
> <333


	19. never more to be alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You better come back to me in one piece, _Private First Class Barnes_ , I still wanna marry you.” 
> 
> A continuance (and by that I mean a prequel of sorts, to Chapter 7)

*~**~*

Bucky never actually wanted to go into the military, but oh do those recruiters make it sound so sweet. They promised Bucky his college and training would be paid for, free and clear, that if he did enough stupid shit in enough time he would get a signing bonus.

And to Bucky, a twenty year old kid who’d been working shitty part-time jobs since he was fourteen, who’s so smart that he easily graduated in the top ten of his class but still didn’t get enough in scholarships to pay for college, saw the steady paycheck and free education as some sort of double-edged blessing.

Plus, at the time, Tony was seventeen and newly disowned by Howard, and Bucky really just wanted to keep him safe, give him a place to stay, since Tony had shit to his name.

So he signed up, got them both settled into a small apartment in the safest part of Brooklyn they could afford with Tony working part-time servicing cab companies for mechanic work, and Bucky’s meager but consistent military pay.

Bucky was officially a recruit in the Army, and a few weeks later he was shipped out to whereverthefuck Missouri to start his basic training. He was gone seven months before he got to come back to New York, working his ass off to be granted an off-site leave, only for a weekend a few months after Tony’s eighteenth birthday. Then he was shipped off again, but to Georgia this time.

Now, another five months later, he’s a full-fledged Army boy off to his first deployment, just as beautiful as ever, even with his hair shorter than Tony’s ever seen it, and the unflattering dull green of his uniform. Somehow Bucky pulls it off.

Or maybe Tony’s just biased.

“You better come back to me in one piece, _Private First Class Barnes_ , I still wanna marry you.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, but Tony can see the light blush on his cheeks, the bashful little smile that pulls the corners of his mouth in and causes his cheeks to budge out, making him look all of nine years old. “We were kids, Tony, you can’t hold me to that proposal.”

“I can, will, and am, Barnes. You tied a daisy around my finger and everything. Daisies are binding, babe, we’re engaged.” Tony steps close, pushing at Bucky’s chest lightly, and Bucky allows it, let’s Tony crowd him up against the peeling red paint of their door. “And that means that I still wanna walk down that aisle someday.”

Bucky’s hands come to rest on Tony’s sides, their grip light, but Tony can feel it down to his bones. Any amusement Bucky was feeling has faded from his eyes, leaving them steady and serious, wonderfully sincere. “One day, Tony Stark, that long lost daisy’s gonna be replaced by a real ring, and then you’ll really be mine.”

Tony grips Bucky’s uniform and pulls himself up to his tiptoes, brings them closer together, their faces are only inches apart. “I’m already yours, Buck.”

“Yeah,” one of Bucky’s hands moves to Tony’s jaw, holding him steady as he leans forward, his lips grazing Tony’s. “but I want everyone _else_ to know that.”

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Can you believe.. that I have updated... twice? Can you believe??  
> Anyway, I really liked that old real life, no powers, soldier Bucky au that I wrote earlier in this series, and when I saw the prompt this scene just flashed into my mind and I had to write it! Not nearly as good as in my imagination, let's be real, I can never get exactly what I want or see onto the page, but I tried my best!
> 
> Business Nonsense:  
> Title Credit: Travelin' Soldier by the Dixie Chicks, as the other chapter was named. I am... running out of lyrics I can pull from that song, so if I get inspired again I'm gonna have a problem lol  
> Disclaimer: I don't claim anything  
> Prompt: "I want to marry you" have y'all noticed I have used one of these in their exact form, like, even once? MAYBE once but I like to switch shit up, add a little spice, apparently lol
> 
> Still no beta!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope y'all enjoy this short little scene! I'm onto the next!  
> <333


	20. I'll see you with your laughter lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cons far outweigh the pros for lobbing a slimeball at Captain America, but oh does Bucky want to splat a fistful of that tacky goo against Steve’s perfectly unblemished face.

*~**~*

If someone would have told Bucky that, at some point, he’d be fighting 50ft slimeballs when he signed up with the Avengers, he would have told Steve and Stark to go fuck themselves when they asked him to join up.

Slime monsters are pretty easy to kill, all things considered, some exploding arrows here, a grenade there, and maybe a lightning strike or two to top it off, and they’re down.

However, the problem with sentient jelly is that, when it explodes, it kind of goes _everywhere_.

Bucky’s covered from head to toe. His hair is slick and matted, his clothes are sticking to him in an increasingly uncomfortable way, and all he can bring himself to do is stand there, dripping sullenly onto the street.

He takes quick stock of everyone else, finds Thor unsurprisingly unaffected, Tasha’s half drenched and scowling, Sam looks like he might _be_ a slime monster at this point, and Tony and Clint clearly got splashback from all the flying slime.

But _Steve_ , on the other hand, that asshole is mostly clean and dry. He’s got some goo clinging stubbornly to his boots and knees, but everything from there up has barely been touched. It seems like he actually used the Shield as an _actual_ shield for once instead of a giant tacky frisbee.

It pisses Bucky off.

Steve’s the one who made Bucky stay on the street, had him right there for every sloppy blast. But he wasn’t even being bait! Stark was corralling them perfectly fine, Bucky could have been on a rooftop like Clint, be the eye in the sky for anything too squirrely.

But no. He was on the ground, and now he’s drenched in slippery, sticky, disgusting, jelly.

He can only thank Stark and the recent redesign he did on Bucky’s suit that it hasn’t started slipping into really unpleasant places.

Looking at the side of Steve’s perfectly clean face, his dry hair that’s blowing in the slight breeze, completely clear of slime, and wishes he could find one more little slime monster to conveniently blow up right at Steve’s back.

A large, congealing clump of gel slides off his shoulder and hits the ground with a wet slap, and with it, a thought forms.

He runs a hand through his soaked hair and down his arm, collecting a hefty handful of tacky slime. He eyes Steve and his perfectly near spotless uniform, his unsticky, clean hair, and looks to the green in his palm and he _wants_.

The cons far outweigh the pros for lobbing a slimeball at Captain America, but oh does Bucky want to splat a fistful of that tacky goo against Steve’s perfectly unblemished face.

“Do it, I dare you.”

Bucky was aware Stark had landed behind him at some point, so the sound of his voice isn’t surprising, nor is what he said, in all honesty. But, he turns to give Stark a reproachful look, anyway.

He just shrugs, though, the movement surprisingly fluid and easy considering he’s still in the armour. “Not every day you get to throw slime at your greatest, bestest friend, Barnes, might as well take the chance while you have it.” He wiggles his eyebrows and smirks. “Plus, I _dared_ you, so you really have no choice.”

As much as Bucky hates to admit it, Stark’s right. He can’t just _not_ do it now, and Stark knows it. Giving him the kind of look that clearly says that if he gets in trouble it’s his fault, Bucky rears his arm back and throws. He’s a sniper, his aim is impeccable, so, despite the horrific way it clung to his skin as it left his hand, the majority of the jelly slaps perfectly onto Steve’s cheek.

But the resulting glare, the petty raging slime fight that followed and left Bucky even _more_ disgusting, and even the lecture and yelling fit by Fury that they had to sit through after; all of it was worth it for the bright, care-free laughter that kept circling around them, staying out of range of the flying goo. ‘Cause, it turns out, Stark’s got a real nice laugh.

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got another one! I'm trying to finish some of these started prompt fills I've got in a doc, hoping to get em written and up. My days are all spent babysitting, though, and I only have a few hours every day to write so I'm hoping I don't get fucked and have to take another million years lol
> 
> Business Section:  
> Title Credit: Laughter Lines by Bastille (another one of those instances where I have nothing for a title and am kind of scrambling bc it's bedtime lol)  
> Disclaimer: I don't claim to own anything recognisable here  
> Prompt: "Do it. I dare you" (didn't change that one!
> 
> No beta la-dee da
> 
> Hope everyone gets some kinda chuckle outta this! Or at least doesn't, like, hate it or whatever lol  
> Thanks for reading!  
> <333


	21. can you feel us falling? 'cause I can feel us falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cabin (really, it’s more of a shack at this point, Tony can only guess it was ever a cabin to begin with) Winter has brought him to is cracked and splintered, the slanted light of late afternoon pours through the hole-ridden roof easily, but there’s something about it that gives off a cozy vibe anyway.

*~**~*

The cabin (really, it’s more of a shack at this point, Tony can only guess it was ever a cabin to begin with) Winter has brought him to is cracked and splintered, the slanted light of late afternoon pours through the hole-ridden roof easily, but there’s something about it that gives off a cozy vibe anyway. Maybe it’s the glow from the warm yellow lamp set low in the corner, or the framed, rain stained print of a field of soft blue flowers directly across from him, or, just maybe, it’s the obviously new and out-of-place mattress he was (gently) thrown on when Winter brought him in. It’s not his three-thousand dollar bed, but it’s also not the back-breaking wooden chair he usually gets from other kidnappers, so really, he’s not complaining.

He sighs as Winter peers through the haphazardly boarded up windows, doing a round to glare through each one, no doubt looking for any sign of a rescue party. He’s steadfastly ignored when he very much doesn’t want to be so Tony sighs again, louder, longer, poutier. This time Winter’s cold, grey, eyes cut to look at him, so he plays it up, pouts his lips and blinks, wide-eyed and slow. “Did you really have to tie me up?”

Winter eyes the rope around Tony’s wrists, his ankles, (it’s not even the scratchy kind, the type that chafes and burns, but is instead soft and pliant, smooth and silky strands braided tight and frayless), and gives him a pointed look. “Yes. You would have run away.”

Tony huffs and wishes he could cross his arms with his annoyance. “So what? We both know you’re faster than me. Don’t know why you bothered.”

The bottom half of Winter’s face is covered by that dumb muzzle and Tony can still see the smugness of a smirk around his eyes, the standard blank grey alight with a self-satisfied spark. “I am faster than you.”

Tony rolls his eyes and slumps against the wall. “Yeah, well, not everyone can be all legs like you, Frosty.”

The leftover rope from where Winter tied the knot is long enough for Tony to fiddle with, not to get a grip and try to loosen, but to twist between his ring and pinky finger, and he looks down to watch it weave around his skin, feeling suddenly and strangely melancholy. After a moment he hears a click, followed instantly by a creak, and knows Winter has moved again. He glances up to see what he’s doing now, only to find him rifle-less at the foot of Tony’s mattress, a knife flipped out from somewhere and twisting deftly through his fingers.

There’s a spike of fear, one that makes Tony’s heart jump in his chest, he can’t help it, but anyone would be a little scared if an assassin, and their frequent kidnapper, was standing over them with a knife. It passes quickly though, as it always does, as Winter kneels down and slices the blade through the ropes at Tony’s feet, then leans up to cut through the ones at his wrists. He holds Tony’s arm gently and carefully, so carefully, slides the knife beside his skin, taking such care to make sure he doesn’t so much as scratch Tony with the blade.

It’s that sweetness, that gentle way he treats Tony, every time, that makes the fear such a fleeting feeling.

Once his hands are free he moves them, slowly, just in case today’s not a good day, up to Winter’s face. Softly, he cradles his jaw, the roughness of the muzzle doing more to scratch his skin than the ropes ever would have. Winter’s eyes are relaxed, unguarded and thawed as he steadily holds Tony’s gaze, so he moves along the edge until his fingers slip into Winter’s hair and reach the fastenings.

The muzzle comes off easy and Tony wastes no time in tossing it away from them, covering Winter’s newly unmasked skin with his palms. He leans into Tony’s hands, eyes slipping shut, and Tony smiles, his heart so fucking heavy in his chest with something he can’t bear to think about, to put a name to. 

He strokes his thumbs along the shadows under those closed eyes until they open and look down at him, finally bright and warm again. Tony sighs and tugs, that heavy thing in his chest yearning desperately, wanting him closer. Close enough Tony can feel his own breath bounce back at him when he whispers. “There you are, James.”

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)  
> So, like, hey kids, been a while! I won't go on n on about the reasons (they, never change lol) but I will apologise to those of you who have read from the beginning and probably much preferred when I posted to this once a day! Believe me, I miss that too, friends. I feel like my writing was actually a bit better back then, tbh.
> 
> I don't imagine this as being in the current, like, mcu timeline or anything. It's more of a canon divergence or something where Buckaroo is still a wintery assassin, but Tony's not Iron Man (yet?), dunno how they met, but it happened and now James steals him away whenever there's a chance, to see him, but also to get him away from the shitty people surrounding Tony (basically Obie, he knows that guy's bad news). Look, I dunno man, I just wrote all the words that came to me first lol
> 
> Let's Get Down To Business:  
> Title Credit: Goodnight Moon by Go Radio  
> Disclaimer: I don't own SHIT babe!!  
> Prompt: "Did you have to tie me up?" "Yes. You would've ran away." "So what? We both know you're faster than me."
> 
> No beta, as per usual :/
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this little bit of Not Much. It's not my best but it's... Something?  
> <333


	22. you come back to what you need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clearly resigning himself to a conversation, Bucky sighs and snaps his textbook closed, unhappily setting it on the pillow beside him. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s this favor that only _I_ can help with?” - College AU

*~**~*

Tony’s known Bucky since he was in kindergarten. Since little Stevie Rogers saw a bully trying to steal Tony’s prized Anna Jarvis made chocolate toffee cookie, marched right up and punched them right in the nose. He then picked up the newly dropped cookie off the rug and gave it back with a kind grin and a confident “Hi. I’m Steven, but you can call me Steve if ya want.”

So, Steve became the first friend Tony made at his new public school, and Bucky and Steve are a packaged deal, so Tony had him too.

And, he and Bucky _are_ friends, even if it doesn’t seem like it with the way they’re always tossing snide remarks at each other like they can barely stand to be in the other’s presence. But it’s been that way since the beginning when Bucky told Tony his eyes were too big, and Tony told Bucky his hair looked like a girl’s.

But in the end, Tony would give Bucky a kidney, would gladly post his bail, would drive a hundred miles to pick him up, or whatever. No questions asked.

Doesn’t stop him from giving Bucky shit, though.

“Wow Buck, your manbun looks particularly dashing today. Did you splurge on a shiny new hair tie or something?”

He doesn’t bother knocking before he lets himself into Bucky’s single dorm. He never has, never will, and Bucky’s never asked him to. Even now he hardly looks up from his engineering textbook to flash Tony an unimpressed look.

“As a matter of fact I did, Stark, though I’m surprised you pulled your head out of your own ass long enough to notice.”

Tony takes his usual place sprawled across the uncomfortable, but always clean, terrazzo floor at Bucky’s feet, his legs bent and half rested on the bed. “Dunno, Barnes, it’s pretty hard to miss a bright red _scrunchie_ showing off your pretentious hipster haircut.”

Bucky carefully turns a page in his book and hums. “If we’re talkin’ about being hipster, pretty sure only one of us wears three hundred dollar glasses and _five_ hundred dollar pre-ripped jeans, and it ain’t me.”

Well. As much as it pains Tony to admit, Bucky does have a point there. 

He won’t say it outloud, though.

He shrugs and magnanimously decides to give Bucky this round. But he looks damn good in his hipster glasses and jeans, though.

He waves a hand. “Whatever. Anyway, I need a favor.”

Bucky actually looks up at that, peering down at him win an incredulously raised eyebrow. “You just randomly waltzed into my room and started insulting me. Why, exactly, would I want to help you after that?”

Tony scoffs. “Okay, first off, if I don’t insult you every day your head will get so full of hot air you’ll float away, and then Steve and I will have to explain to your poor mother and sisters that we let you get too cocky, so now you’re just drifting through space,” Bucky smirks, and doesn’t dispute Tony at all, hence Tony’s whole point. “And _secondly_ , you’re kind of the only person I can ask, so you have to do it.”

Clearly resigning himself to a conversation, Bucky sighs and snaps his textbook closed, unhappily setting it on the pillow beside him. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s this favor that only _I_ can help with?”

Tony drums his fingers on his chest and makes a face. “I need you to be my fake date to a wedding.”

There’s a pause, where Bucky looks down at him, flabbergasted, then, he throws his head back and guffaws. Like, full-on belly laughs. Loud enough that Tony’s sure Rhodey can probably hear him from where his dorm is three floors down.

All Tony can do is just nod and grimace. He knows, he gets it. “I know, I know. It’s not like you’re not my first choice, okay, but no one else will do it.” He crosses his arms and winces. “Nat would totally end up stabbing me before we even get on the plane, Clint wouldn’t be able to convince an idiot that he likes me that way, Pepper, Bruce, and Rhodey refuse to do it on principle, and Thor is way too good for me. Seriously, no one would _ever_ believe he’d date me.” He shrugs, sheepish and kind of embarrassed. “Steve would’ve been my first choice, but we both know he can’t travel, and you’ve known me just as long as he has, you actually know me the best out of all my friends, so,” he winces. “you’re, unfortunately, the best choice.”

Bucky’s slowly calmed himself into quiet giggles while Tony was explaining himself, but they end with a choking hiccup at Tony’s admission. He wipes tears from his eyes and nudges Tony’s arm with a sock-clad foot. “Why do you have to bring anyone at all, man? Just go stag, charm a bridesmaid or something.”

Oh, he’d love nothing more than to do just that, but, like usual, his big mouth got involved. Thanks to that, his love for his mother, and the desperate attempts he makes to make her happy, he might have dug himself into a little bit of a hole.

He pulls a face. “Well, you see, I sort of already told her I’d be bringing someone… That I’ve been dating… For a year.”

He watches Bucky’s face, looking for any bit of acquiesce, but his reasoning doesn’t seem to matter much ‘cause Bucky doesn’t look very convinced. But Tony’s got an ace up his sleeve, and it looks like he’ll have to whip it out. 

“Did I mention it’s in Italy?” He asks. “In a beautiful little village on the Tuscan Coast?” Bucky’s eyes narrow as he listens, his head tilting. Tony can tell he’s actually considering it now, so he keeps going, has to sweeten the pot a little, so to speak. “It’s gonna be on a winery. One of the most beautiful in the country, actually.”

The thing is, Bucky’s always wanted to travel, and Tony knows it. But any money he makes working during the summer goes right into his schooling in the fall, so he’s never gotten the opportunity to go farther than Jersey. Is it a dirty tactic using that knowledge to tempt him? Maybe. But is Tony going to dangle this carrot in front of his nose so he gets his favor anyway? Hell yes he is.

“Just think about it, Buck, you could spend three whole weeks of your last summer before the grueling trek of grad school on an all-expenses-paid vacation to a Mediterranean paradise. You can soak up the sun… swim in the picture-perfect seawater… drink free wine and eat the most delicious food the country has to offer…”

Bucky’s cracking. Tony knows he is. He’s known Bucky Barnes for fifteen years, he can read him like a picture book.

“And…” Tony continues. “all you have to do is get on a plane, play nice with my mother and her family, and pretend you like me a little more than you actually do. And, maybe hold my hand a bit.”

Bucky's eye twitches once and he tries to hide it by schooling his face into something impassive before Tony can notice, but it’s too late. Tony saw the exact moment Bucky made up his mind and it’s all Tony can do not to fist pump, because he’s _got him_ and he knows it.

“ _Fine._ ” Bucky relents, and Tony whoops. He jumps up, pulling Bucky’s rose-red hair tie right out of his silky hair as he goes, and shoots it at the ceiling in victory.

There’s a disgruntled huff below him and Tony tips his head down to find Bucky with an adorably pouty little scowl on his face, his hair hanging limply over his forehead and sticking to his face.

He coos and pokes at Bucky’s pursed lips. Bucky snaps at Tony’s finger, missing it by a mile, and pushes him away as he shakes the hair out of his face. “Just remember, I ain’t kissin’ you on the lips for this, Stark, so you better not even think about it.”

Tony laughs as he dances back with the momentum of Bucky’s shove. “I’d rather eat three bowls of Thor’s horrendous Lucky Charm marshmallows and ketchup dressed banana oatmeal than let your lips come anywhere near my face, Barnes, so you’re definitely safe.”

(The look on Bucky’s face when he brings up Thor’s fucked up breakfast concoctions could easily fuel him for weeks, so having to remember it himself is honestly totally worth it.)

Bucky deflates with a sigh and scoots himself so he’s sitting flush against the wall. He picks up his book again and digs a neon pink highlighter from under his thigh and uncaps it. “Shut up and come help me study for this engineering test I have on Wednesday, you dumbass genius.”

There’s not a doubt in Tony’s mind that Bucky doesn’t need his help in the slightest. He’s not Tony, but he’s nowhere near an idiot either. He’s easily one of the best in his class and he’s only ever asked for Tony to walk him through one equation. And even that time he only needed it explained to him once.

But Tony would rather sit here and pretend to help Bucky with math (and end up doodling dicks and ufos in the margins of his textbook) rather than go back to his own dorm and sit around reading about stuff he already knows how to do. So he toes off his Chucks and perches criss-cross applesauce next to Bucky on the bed, a dig about how he’s already doing the math wrong halfway out of his mouth before he sits down.

Sure, he might’ve bitched about it having to be Bucky that comes with him to this stupid wedding, but he’s not actually bothered by it at all. Bucky knows him better than almost anyone, and they _do_ get along, _are_ capable of getting along. It’ll be a piece of cake for them to fool his family into thinking they’re in love.

Bucky suddenly squawks right in Tony’s ear. His hand is gentle on Tony’s face as he shoves him away, attempting to also steal the pen Tony just used to draw a surprisingly accurate doodle of Bucky in a bikini on an Italian beach right next to a diagram of jet propulsion. Tony just cackles and tries to hold the pen out of Bucky’s reach so he can’t scratch out his _masterpiece_. The struggle quickly turns into a scuffle.

Nah, spending three weeks in Italy with Bucky won’t be too bad. Really, what’s the worst that could happen?

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooooo. I've brought another meager offering to you all in these difficult times.  
> Is it my best work? God no. Is it something I wrote? Unfortunately, and thereby, according to the rules I set myself at the beginning of this endeavor, I had to post it anyway.  
> I like the idea, and I'm sure you all can predict where it will eventually go, it being a WinterIron fanfic and all... but I'm still not happy with what I eventually got out of myself, and that's not a great feeling. But it is one I'm familiar with. Mostly when I've not written anything in a long time, when I finally produce something again it's always a questionable piece in terms of quality :/
> 
> Anyway, in a semi-yet-kind-of-non-related note, I re-read this series (in attempt to get back into the swing of things) and I was kind of inspired with some of my own works lol. Specifically, I kind of want to add more to the story in Chapter 14. That one really called to me! So.... maybe.....
> 
> End Credits:  
> Title Credit: This Love by Taylor Swift  
> Disclaimer: I own a lot of make-up, but no matter how much I put on I'll never be Mickey Mouse  
> Prompt: I actually didn't use one this time
> 
> No beta
> 
> Thank you to all of you who will read this update! And to those who click on this fic anew, you're all lovely and I cherish you in my little heart.  
> Until I see you again :-*  
> <333
> 
> P.S. this takes place in an AU where, yeah, Tony's a genius at MIT, but he's not 14 and a genius at MIT. He's 19 at the youngest here. Bucky's 22, Tony's 19, and probably heading for his second doctorate or something lol


	23. where love is lost your ghost is found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The room is heavy and quiet. It has been, after, for months at this point. It makes Tony wonder why they still allow it to continue, why the heaviness, the painful silences, (the _guilt_ ) hasn’t warned them off yet.
> 
> Sequel to [ Chapter 14](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495994/chapters/44391226).

*~**~*

The darkness makes it easier. It’s always made it easier. Easier to hold in the desperate feelings that crawl up from Tony’s chest and stick into his throat. All messy and painful and heavy. When all he can feel is a distant brush of skin and the faint golden light slanting through the windows leaving everything a silhouette, a formless shadow, it’s bearable. He can hold it in.

But the darkness also hides things. It’s the perfect keeper of secrets. They just quietly crumble to pieces in the fuzzy blackness and fade away, just blend into the dark corners, not really easily forgotten (they always lurk in the shadows, under beds and in closets), but easily passed over, ignored.

‘Cause the thing is, Tony feels guilty. He feels _so_ guilty every time Bucky comes over. Every time Bucky’s shirt slips over his head, every time Tony’s fingertips reach out to brush down his arm and ache desperately to slot their fingers together, hands pressed palm to palm.

Every time he wants more but knows he has no right to ask for it.

The sheets are cool beneath the skin of his back, his fingers throb and twitch, the air feels like dense smoke in his lungs. Beside him, the blanket rustles as Bucky turns over, shuffles a little closer. Close enough that Tony can feel the heat coming off his skin when he rests his arm next to Tony’s on the bed.

His fingers _ache_.

The room is heavy and quiet. It has been, after, for months at this point. It makes Tony wonder why they still allow it to continue, why the heaviness, the painful silences, (the _shame_ ) hasn’t warned them off yet.

(He knows why. He knows. It all goes back to that guilt)

Maybe Bucky stays for the fun, Tony’s easy (always _so_ easy), home is miserable but he doesn’t have to pretend here. Tony takes him just as he is, how he wants to be. Maybe Tony’s just a break.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Or, maybe they were always supposed to be painful. Always meant to clash and shatter, and burn.

Bucky’s quiet admission settles over Tony like snow, heavy and cold. Whenever he’s let himself imagine this moment (always on nights like these, when it’s dark, and he’s lonely), he always thought it’d be warm. That his heart would beat double time, strong and exuberant.

But there’s no victory with this admission. It’s too hollow. Too streaked with regret.

“I know I’m in love with you.”

His own confession is just as reserved, but equally steady and sure, as Bucky’s had been. But if anything, saying it out loud, confirming it for himself with real, actual words, somehow hurts more than the sound of Bucky’s regret.

Because there’s no coming back from this. There’s no plucking the words out of the air and wedging them back in-between his teeth, the darkness has taken them already. They’ve become dust, dispersing and settling into the corners, impossible to gather back together and keep to himself.

Tony can see Bucky’s head turn from the corner of his eye. The weak glow from streetlights so far below the penthouse illuminate the curve of his ear, catch the waves of his mussed hair, and Tony wishes it was his place to slide his fingers there and smooth them out. But that kind of tenderness isn’t his. It doesn’t belong to him like it belongs to Rumlow. To Bucky’s husband.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky whispers, sounding like it actually digs into him and tears him apart. And the sad thing, the _stupid_ thing, is that Tony actually believes that it does.

They never meant to hurt each other, after all.

He breathes, the air burns his throat. “I know.”

Bucky’s hand crosses that final little bit of distance and wraps around Tony’s palm, fingers tangling and squeezing _tight_. The ache in his knuckles finally goes away.

There’s a hitch of breath from his right, and he wonders if Bucky’s lungs feel tight too, if the air is as thick for him as it is for Tony. But this moment of shared remorse can only last for so long, and it does, it’s allowed to stretch and twist and turn all over itself until it morphs into the whole heavy darkness around them, filled with everything that hurts and makes them sick.

But it’s not long before Bucky pulls away, taking his hand back and returning the hurt to Tony’s fingers. He sits up, slips out of bed like a whisper, puts on his clothes like a ghost, and doesn’t spare Tony a glance as he leaves the bedroom.

The door to the penthouse doesn’t make a sound when he shuts it behind himself, and neither does Tony when a sob claws its way from his belly and up to his throat. He covers it with hands that ache and throb, keeps it inside and shakes through the pain of it. Pushes the grief back down until it settles like a ball of ice in his stomach.

He takes a breath, the rush of it burns, he counts to ten, exhales ash.

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wassup wassup. I _said_ in my last chapter that I was inspired by chapter 14....  
> I tried a bit of a different style than I usually have. I like this, like, artsy descriptive and vaguely disjointed kind of fic so much better, personally, but I'm absolute trash at writing it myself. Metaphors and flowery words are my fave things to read. I hope I can master it and make people feel all the things one day lol
> 
> I don't have anything else on the backburner right now, but I'm always on the hunt for more prompts and inspo. So hopefully there will be more much sooner rather than later!
> 
> Business Slide:  
> Title Credit: Turning Tables by Adele  
> Disclaimer: I don't claim to own or have rights to anything  
> Prompt: "I think I'm in love with you."
> 
> No beta, as I'm sure you've guessed by now
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you all enjoy!  
> <333


	24. watch us go round, and round each time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His lungs hurt. His lungs hurt and he’s dying. “I think I’m dying.” He informs with a cough.
> 
> Bucky rolls his eyes. “You’re not dying, Tony.”

*~**~*

They’ve been running for less than ten minutes and Tony is already huffing like a pack-a-day smoker. It’s a little concerning, he won’t lie, he didn’t realise he was _this_ out of shape. But until a few months ago it didn’t matter, anyway, his lungs would have never been able to handle anything faster than a light jog for twenty feet on a _good_ day. But, Extremis changed all that.

It apparently didn’t magically make him able to keep up with a super soldier, though. It’s a marvel, but clearly not marvelous enough.

Because Bucky, on the other hand, isn’t even breathing hard. Aside from actually _seeing_ him running, Tony would be hard-pressed to believe he’s doing anything other than taking a lazy stroll through the park if all he had to go on was the serene look on his face.

He scowls at Bucky’s back. It’s all he can do. He can’t spare any air to complain, and he’s easily fallen five feet behind, so the only thing to glare at is Bucky’s wide shoulders and bobbing ponytail.

At first, he tried making himself feel better by watching the way Bucky’s ass bounces in his basketball shorts, and if he was doing anything else he would’ve been able to fall into a trance and happily follow him anywhere, but not even perfection is enough to make Tony capable of running more than a few blocks, it seems.

Tony gasps shallowly and gives up, stumbling over to the nearest stretch of grass and flopping onto his back like a wet pillow.

It takes a few seconds, but Bucky must realise Tony’s not huffing and puffing behind him anymore because he makes his way back and then Tony’s suddenly squinting up at Bucky’s unamused face instead of the bright ass sun. He wheezes pathetically.

His lungs hurt. His lungs hurt and he’s dying. “I think I’m dying.” He informs with a cough.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You’re not dying, Tony.”

“My lungs feel like a cramp and I’m dying.”

“We didn’t even make it three blocks, Stark, you’re not dying.”

Tony pants indignantly. “How the hell would you know, huh? I have reduced lung capacity!”

“Not anymore, you don’t.” Bucky scoffs with another roll of his eyes.

He doesn’t help in the slightest as Bucky bends and grabs a fistful of the front of his shirt and yanks him to sitting, he keeps his body heavy and relaxed. Not like it matters to a guy with a metal arm, but it’s the thought that counts with rebellion, sometimes.

What Bucky said is true, though. Tony’s breathing has already almost returned to normal, even though his lungs still ache, they work at 100% these days. Extremis re-built his entire body, making the Arc Reactor unnecessary and undoing any damage it caused over the years, but it sure didn’t make him fit.

He whines and sags onto his back again. “I don’t get _why_ I suddenly have to be able to run a hundred miles when I have a fancy suit that can _fly_.”

Bucky pinches Tony’s shirt between his thumb and index finger and pulls him back into a sitting position. “It’s not a hundred miles, just a coupla blocks, maybe.” He pats Tony’s chest, right where the Arc Reactor used to be. “You’re fixed up all pretty now, Stark, so you can keep up with the rest of us.” He smirks. “Plus, it’s Captain’s orders. You know Carol’ll kick your ass if you don’t do it, so you gotta suck it up buttercup.”

Tony sulks. “But why does it have to be _this_?”

Standing up, Bucky shrugs. “Gotta get cardio somehow, doll.”

He glares at the hand Bucky offers him. He refuses to get up, no matter how pretty and shiny an offering it is. “I’d literally rather do any other kind of cardio than running.”

Bucky pauses. “Well,” he sighs as he takes it upon himself to bend down and grab Tony’s hand in his own, effortlessly tugging him to his feet. “If you didn’t wanna run all you had to do is say so, sweetheart, we coulda stayed right at home.”

Tony raises an eyebrow at the implication there. “That so, soldier boy?”

Bucky hasn’t let go of Tony’s hand, and they’re standing awfully fucking close. He just shrugs, face open and soft like he hasn’t just initiated something they both know will be huge. ‘Cause they’ve been dancing around each other for months, flirting and staring and obvious interest. Tony just chalked it up to it not being the right time, because neither one of them have made a move.

Until now.

He lets go of Bucky’s hand, lets his fingers trail along the skin-warm metal as they slip free. And Bucky can feel it, Tony designed those realistic sensors, he doesn’t need the slight shudder that runs through Bucky to tell him he feels it. It is nice, though. “I’ll get a taxi.”

*~**~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo yo yoooo.  
> I don't have much to say but hi, hello, how are all of you? Hope you're doing well. I have produced this small thing and I hope you all get enjoyment out of it.
> 
> Also, funny thing, I have an extension that helps highlight grammar and spelling issues (a lifesaver when you accidentally repeat words a lot like I tend to), and they've recently added a new feature where it shows you the overall emotion in your text, and this author's note is "admiring, friendly, informal" and my base text, that has the story, is "disapproving, worried, sad". Tony's in a Mood, guys lol
> 
> Business:  
> Title Credit: Style by Taylor Swift (not sold on the title but I'm desperate to post this and have NO idea what else, ok lol)  
> Disclaimer: I don't claim to own any persons or places or concepts that are familiar.  
> Prompt: I had one but ended up not using it lol it was "can we please stop running? I think I'm dying"
> 
> No beta
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! I know it's short and simple but it's something! See y'all for the next one!  
> <333

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've started another thing I'm really hoping to actually finish in the time I set out for myself. I'm not holding my breath too much tho.  
> I'm still getting used to writing these characters together. I have a hundred WIPs but that's all they are, I'm no expert by any means, and I have no doubt they could be written at least a little better. But I'm still real happy to be writing them!
> 
> Business:  
> Title Credit: There's No Way by Lauv ft. Julia Michaels  
> Disclaimer: already covered in the top notes  
> Prompt: "okay, that's starting to get annoying"
> 
> I do not, and most likely will not ever, have a beta. Apologies for any mistakes! I'm really hoping my paranoia when it comes to rereading and editing doesn't keep me from posting on time, though if it ever does, I will not be surprised lol
> 
> Hope all of you who click enjoyed! I hope to have something else for you tomorrow!  
> <333


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